Twenty-Five Hours to Sunrise
by Daughter of the Black
Summary: The hours and days and events that find Emma Swan and Killian Jones being drawn together during the Christmas season. CaptainSwan set AU & Post S3. Entirely fluff-ridden fic. [Holiday Fic 2014]
1. The Calf & The River

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

"You know," Emma panted roughly, hands braced on her knees as she stared in exhaustion at her perp, "It occurs to me that _I_ am the sheriff of this town. I mean yeah, this is a Podunk pond of a town, with only two law enforcement agents in the whole place, so this isn't totally out of the realm of possibility. Hell, there isn't a lot that is _out_ of the realm of possibility. I mean I traveled through time for goodness sake, but here I am, Savior, in a river, talking to a baby cow."

"Calf actually," a smooth, softly accented, voice chimed.

"I knew that, thank you," Emma's glare deepened. "What are you doing out here hook?"

Hook leaned against a tree, boots sinking into the layer of crisp snow. "I went to the station looking for you, Love. Dear old dad said you were on a call out in the woods and here I am."

Emma's head tilted back. Of course David had managed to miss this particular call but still managed to direct Hook her way. "I don't have time for this," Emma called.

"I can see that," Hook forced the smile from his face. "If you stay in that water any longer you'll catch your death."

"Great," the blonde grumbled, "positive thinking, exactly what I need."

With a determined step, Emma slid through the water, trying to keep her movements slow and clam. The last thing she needed was for the calf to panic again and start to run. Emma didn't have anything left to lose really, her phone was fried, her boots were no doubt ruined, and she had entirely lost feeling below her knees and in her hands.

"Here, Bessie," Emma breathed, taking another measured step forward. The calf remained still. The big eyes stared at Emma, her lip twitched, she kept thinking about veal, a nice hot plate of veal. Veal was looking at her, and if that wasn't a disturbing thought Emma didn't know what was.

"Are you going to rope the poor thing or eat it," Hook asked with a chuckle.

Emma reached into the water, icy fingers scrabbling for the rope she had abandoned after her first, second, and third failed attempts at catching the calf. Breathing slowly, Emma lifted the loop in both hands and stretched forward, her foot inching forward on uneven rocks. Her breath was heavy, swirling in a cloud in the chilled air. With a short exhalation Emma dropped the rope around the Calf's neck. Her relief was short lived as she relaxed her body her foot slipped on the rock, plummeting her into the river.

"Emma," Hook cried, scrambling down the snowy embankment as Emma jerked upward, yelping as the cold seeped into her bones.

"Cold," Emma shivered, "so cold."

"Are you alright," Hook breathed, bright eyes flashing with worry.

Emma struggled to her feet, keeping a tight grip on the rope, the calf unmoving. "Fine, cold, wet, pissed, but fine."

"Let's get you out of there, eh, Love," Hook extended his hand, bracing himself so that he could safely pull Emma from the water.

Emma, true to nature, thumped the rope into this hand before flopping onto the bank and dragging herself from the water. She rolled onto her back, staring up at the bright sun, her skin prickling as the air bit into her wet form. Groaning, Emma pushed herself upward, teeth chattering. "Okay, Bessie, time to get you home."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that, Swan," Hook asked with a smirk as the woman steeled herself and took the rope from the pirate.

"Good looks and some good old fashioned stubbornness," Emma bit out.

* * *

It took some time, Hook having to lend a hand and a hook to help Emma haul the calf from the water, up the embankment and to the cruiser. Emma was exhausted; this was absolutely the last thing she had wanted to do on a Sunday morning. She had taken the early shift so she could spend the day with Henry working on popcorn garland. It wasn't exactly Emma's idea of fun, but Mary-Margaret had suggested it and Henry had jumped. Emma had been not-so-subtly been bribed by her father with promises of Granny's cinnamon hot cocoa with a shot of whiskey.

Taking the early shift, Emma decided, was the worst choice she had ever made, and that included some of her ill-advised one night stands, and maybe a theoretically year-long relationship with a flying monkey man.

"Alright," Emma sighed, "I'll drive, and you get to hold the leash." Emma pushed the rope into Hook's hand, as she moved around to the driver's side of the cruiser, digging the keys from her pocket with numb fingers.

* * *

"Ugh," Emma whimpered, "I am going to die out here. Stupid baby cow."

"Calf," Hook reminded her sweetly.

"Not helping," the blonde glared at him, letting the car roll forward on the road, her foot hovering over the break in case the calf stopped walking. "I might die of old age in this car."

"A little dramatic, aren't we, Swan," the dark-haired, dark-clothed man snickered.

Wet locks shook, "No, I really don't think I am."

"So what's the story," Hook asked curiously.

Emma shrugged, adjusting the heater and fans, "Farmer's gate was left open and _that_ sheep for brains decided to go wandering."

"And Prince Charming was unavailable," Hook pressed.

"Yeah," Emma nodded, "believe me I called, he didn't answer. I'm starting to think about putting him on probation. I got wet…in winter, he deserves to be punished. You think Gold would help me with a curse?"

Hook laughed, lips curling in amusement, "Alright, Love, I think we had better get you warm and into some dry clothes before you decide that you'd like to be friends with the next villain that pops into your head."

Her lower lip jutted out, a shock of pink against her pale skin, "Hey, I kind of like Gold, we get each other."

"And on that, I think I'm going to pretend you haven't said that," the man sighed, his concern rising at Emma's state.

The blonde slumped slightly behind the wheel of her car, "I'm assuming it would be bad to floor it and just drag the slowest cow in the _universe _home."

"Yes," Hook nodded slowly, tugging lightly on the rope, "that might be a poor choice."

"Damn it," Emma shivered violently stamping the floorboards of the car.

* * *

Emma rolled the car into the station parking spots. Blurrily putting the car in park and slipping the key out of the ignition. She stumbled out of the car, letting Hook manage the calf who was still ambling down the road as if time had become irrelevant. The ten minute drive had been lengthened to an hour with the burden of the calf, and Emma was more popsicle than human.

"David," she growled, sounding more like a lost kid than a pissed sheriff. "David," she called again her voice fading and cracking.

"Emma, is that you," David's voice carried from deeper in the station, most likely the file storage room.

"No," Emma grumped, "I don't think I can technically be considered Emma anymore. I'm more frozen than human."

"What," David asked in confusion as he stepped into the room, his footsteps halted at the site of his daughter.

Her hair was straggly and half hardened from the cold, her skin was pale as snow, her veins standing out under her sickly complexion. Emma's clothes were _actually_ dripping on the linoleum.

"What happened," David asked, stepping forward and placing his hands on Emma's shoulders so he could look her over properly.

The disheveled woman took a deep breath, straightened her spine as much as she could before she let out a dramatic sigh. "I got a call about a stupid baby cow that ran away from home. I called for backup, but no one answered. So I had to get in the river and wrestle a freaking cow on my own."

David's wide eyes shimmered with concern, his mouth opening slightly in regret. "Your mother is going to kill me," he muttered. "You should get home."

"Oh," Emma forced a grimace of a smile, "I'm going home, you're going to take the idiot home, good luck. She walks like he's had both her hips replaced."

The door opened and Hook leaned in, "Hey mate, do you want to take this?"

The rope was brandished as the pirate pursed his lips. Prince Charming dropped his hands from Emma's sodden shoulders and looked around her at the leather-clad man. "Hook," he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Your job, apparently," was the smiling reply.

A sigh and an eye roll was all Emma could muster as she drifted toward the door, "Have fun. Hook, you wanna drive me home?"

"There's a first time for everything," Hook winked, holding the door open for Emma and escorting her to the yellow bug.

* * *

"Oh my goodness," Mary-Margret gasped, hands covering her mouth in horror as the door swung open and her daughter stumbled in supported by Captain Hook. "What happened?"

"I got in a fight with a big black and white monster," Emma shivered, her head dropping slightly. "I won."

"She took a little dip in the river," Hook added, "it took longer than expected to return."

The petite, dark haired woman nodded frantically, and motioned for Hook to bring Emma further into the apartment. "We should get her into the shower and then bed," the woman shook her head as she moved to help, "where was David in all of this."

"Not answering his phone," Hook supplied helpfully.

Chocolate eyes narrowed and a little bit of Snow White peaked out, "I am going to kill him."

"How about making sure I don't _croak_ first," Emma's muscles seized slightly and she tightened her hold on Hook.

The man grunted, shifting his hold on the woman, "Alright, Love, I've got you."

Mary-Margaret rushed across the room and into the bathroom, opening the taps and letting the hot water flow. "Hook," Mary-Margaret called, "I know this is asking a lot, but would you mind helping me with Emma? I don't think I'll be able to manage her on my own."

"Sure," he flashed a canned smile, unwilling to betray how very fast his heart was beating, "Although I would appreciate it if, when Emma is better, you prevent her from shooting me. I don't think she would be particularly appreciative of me helping her with a bath."

The older woman laughed, "I think I can stop her from doing that."

Emma's head lifted sharply before dropping limply, "Who's shooting who?"

Hook exhaled sharply as he swept Emma up into his arms entirely. He moved across the apartment floor, stepping into the cramped bathroom before he set her down on her feet, keeping a firm hold of her all the while. Between himself and Emma's mother, they managed to strip Emma down to her underwear so Hook could settled her into the steaming water.

Emma jerked as the temperature of the water hit her pale skin. Hook tightened his hold on her, lowering her deliberately into the water. Mary-Margaret stood at the foot of the tub, one hand clasped on the necklace resting against her clavicle, a clear sign of worry.

Lowering himself to the tile beside the tub, Hook kept his good hand and arm around Emma, preventing her head from slipping underwater. With short jerky shrugs, he wiggled his hooked arm out of his coat, and with some maneuvering shucked the coat entirely.

"Do you mind," Mary-Margaret nodded to Emma, "I need to check on the baby."

"Sure, of course," the faux smile returned. As the once-queen exited the bathroom, Hook returned his attention to Emma. The woman he was falling for, already fallen for. It was rather blurred, he supposed.

The blonde shifted, water sloshing sharply against the sides of the tub, "Hook?"

"I'm here, Love," he breathed, the honey in his voice soothing his charge.

"Am I naked," she breathed as her hands skated over her body beneath the hot water.

Hook shook his head, "No. I promise your virtue is still intact."

"Virtue, Hook," Emma snorted, eyes still firmly closed, "you do remember I have an twelve year-old son running around this town?"

"Killian, Love, and I do remember your charming son," Hook agreed. "How are you feeling?"

"Warmer, still pissed at my father," Emma's face tightened as she squeezed her eyes shut a little harder. "Killian, I feel numb."

"I know, Love, I know. It'll pass in a while, and I'll be here."

"Okay," Emma relaxed slightly, her hands reaching up to hold onto Hook's arm.

* * *

A/N: For those of you who haven't experience my version of Christmas-Madness, it goes a little like this: I pick a fandom and write a chapter a day ending on December 25th. Now, I actually started this on December 1st with a different fandom (Heroes), and then about 6 days ago I started thinking about Emma and Killian and decided that on top of my Heroes fic I would write a 12 day CaptainSwan story. All I ask in return for this story is reviews; I love to hear what you guys think! Happy Holidays.


	2. The Frog & The Pillow

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

Emma sounded like a frog the day after her adventure in the river. That should have been enough of a sign for Emma to stay in bed. It wasn't however, so Emma found herself standing on a chair in town hall looking and feeling miserable as a sea of frogs hopped and ribbited.

"Holy hell," Emma breathed heavily, her head swimming slightly as she tried to focus on the swarming mass of green and brown. "Is everything in this town apocalyptic?"

"As much as I'm enjoying your disbelief, Ms. Swan, I need solutions," Regina growled from atop a table.

Emma bit her lip, "You do realize that my qualifications for _this_ kind of job are kind of zippo? I didn't major in frog-removal, or what to do when an Evil Witch comes to town. Hell, I didn't major in anything but sarcasm and lock-picking."

"I'm well aware of your lack of applicable skills," Regina returned the verbal volley.

"How did this even happen," Emma stared in wonder.

Another huff left Regina's lips, "I'm sure I don't know."

"I didn't think you did," Emma groaned, her head throbbing. "I so do not need this today."

"You do look a little…," the Mayor trailed off.

"Peaky," Emma offered helpfully.

The dark haired woman shook her head, "No, like death warmed over. And I would know."

Emma shrugged lightly in agreement, her face turning almost as green as the four legged frogs, "And on that note I think I might pass out, except I keep thinking about the squishing that will happen if I do, and that just makes it worse."

One perfectly red lip curled upward in disgust, "Well, isn't that just pleasant."

"Yeah, well that's what you get when stupid animals end up in the freaking river," Emma growled, her face going pale as a flash of heat ran through her body.

"O'Leary," Regina said knowingly, "I've told that idiot a million times to fix that stupid fence."

"And somehow my _father_ managed to miss that call and this one," Emma gritted out, teeth clenched to quell her stomach.

"He always did have all the luck," Regina ruminated.

Emma moaned nauseously and carefully sat on the back of the chair, leaning forward slightly to keep balanced. "I'm starting to understand why you were so evil," Emma gulped down a breath of air.

"Thinking about a career change," Regina asked with a smirk.

"You seem to have more fun than the good guys, I've already got a resume that includes a stint in jail, if you need recommendations," Emma offered.

Regina laughed softly, "I'll let you know."

"So, you really have no idea who would let a bazillion frogs into city hall," the blonde pushed her hair out of her face.

"No," Regina folded her arms over her chest, "normally I would say it was Gold attempting to piss me off, but he's not really the frog type. Could be a prank, but it's a little to clever for the Storybrooke's senior class."

"Please tell me there isn't a precedent for princes being turned into frogs," Emma begged. "I saw that movie and it traumatized me for life. Who the hell goes around kissing frogs? That's how you end up with warts."

"Yeah," the dark haired woman snorted, "believe me I know. Had a friend, well I say friend, more of a pawn, who spent a lot of time in swamps."

"So there is a precedent," Emma clarified.

"No," Regina inhaled sadly, "she just really liked frogs."

"And eww," Emma decided, sniffing delicately and quickly regretting it as the warm stench of pond water filled her nose.

"Let's just say she wasn't the most popular girl in the castle," Regina sighed. "I think the curse may have missed her, that or she ended up as one of _them_."

"Alright," Emma breathed shallowly, "I'm calling for help."

"Again, you've left three messages and called the school asking for Mary-Margaret," Regina asked. "What's your next idea?"

Emma breathed deeply, "I'm about to make a phone call that I may regret in the next few hours, just remind me that I was desperate, and I kind of want to see what happens."

"Okay…" Regina quirked a brow in curiosity, "but I reserve the right to mock you later."

"Noted," the green eyed woman agreed and pulled out her phone and with a few flicks had it pressed to her ear. It rang, and rang again. Emma dropped her head to rest against her hand, propped against her knee. The line picked up with a crisp click, "Hello, Dearie, fancy you calling me, how can I help you?"

Emma whimpered slightly, "I need you."

His voice was a low rasp in her ear, oddly soothing despite the quirk of mischief, "You surprise me again, Emma, what do you _need_ me for?"

"I'm going to regret this," Emma was a ball of nerves. "I'm trapped in City Hall with Regina, please hurry."

"Well," Gold's voice curled sharply, "since you asked so nicely, I think I may have a few moments to spare."

The call disconnected and Emma slid her phone back into her pocket with a hacking cough, her lungs protesting their use. "Oh please don't tell me you've called the _pirate_," Regina spat the word in disgust.

"No," Emma shook her head with a little sneer, "I didn't call the pirate."

"Well, that's a small relief. You really look miserable, how did Mary-Margaret let you leave the house this morning?"

Emma shrugged, "I may have snuck out. She has Leroy watching the house, and my father has Archie on look out in town."

"Double-teamed," Regina hissed. "I'm beginning to see the benefit of having one parent under your thumb."

"Yeah," Emma asked, "what's that like?"

"I was a Daddy's girl," Regina smiled fondly. "Anything I wanted was mine…as long as my mother didn't say anything."

"Must have been nice, I was never much of a family person," Emma paused, "I didn't have a family growing up."

"I know," Regina's lips pressed together tightly, "I'm sorry."

It was as genuine an apology for her involvement in the whole affair as Regina would ever give and Emma would ever get.

"You a fan of nature or nurture," Emma asked curiously, tilting her head to watch the suit clad woman.

"I don't understand."

Emma inhaled deeply, trying to force the breath to calm her stomach. "There are two schools of thought, we are either products of how we were raised or nurtured or everything we are is already part of us."

"I thought you didn't have any qualifications," Regina asked, deflecting the real question.

Emma burped softly, muttering a requisite apology, "As it happens being a foster child and pregnant and in jail actually mandates a lot of therapy. I got pretty smart about what people were trying to say about me. So, nature or nurture?"

"Nature," Regina shook her head, "I guess."

"Me too," Emma breathed a laugh. "Even if I had been raised by Mary-Margaret and David, I would probably still be me, except I wouldn't be caught dead living with my family and I definitely wouldn't care about what I have now. You probably did me a bit of a favor, not that I'll ever say it again."

"Don't be stupid," Regina rolled her eyes in shame, "I took away from you what I always wanted, a mother who loved me and a father who would protect me with his life, protect my happiness."

Emma lifted her head to respond but was cut short as the doors were pulled open and the sharp click of heels.

"Well this is quite the conundrum," Gold smirked, hands clasped in front of him, the picture of elegance.

"Oh thank god," Emma cried in relief.

"_This_ is who you called," Regina exclaimed, pointing rudely at their unlikely savior. "You really must be sick if this is your idea of a solution."

"To be fair, Dearie," Gold waved a crooked finger at Regina, "Ms. Swan does look a bit on the ill side, and I do look quite tempting on a good day."

"Shut up," Emma grumbled, "I didn't call you to argue, I called you to disappear these things before I pass out."

"Well," Gold took a careful step forward, "far be it for me to disappoint you, however it is not quite that simple."

"I'll give you anything, second born child, done, strip show, cool, just get me out of here," Emma growled darkly.

Gold grinned magnanimously, "And as charming and attractive as those offers are, and believe me I _am_ tempted, I think I may just take a smaller favor in exchange."

"What," Regina huffed.

"I get to plug in the tree this year," Gold sniffed.

Regina jerked slightly, "That's my job. I _always_ do it."

"Precisely," Gold tipped his head in acknowledgment, "Perhaps it's time for a little change in Storybrooke."

"No," Regina glared. "It's not happening."

"Deal," Emma cut in. "Just get me out."

"As you like," Gold waved one hand in a sweeping motion sending frogs flying to one side of the room.

Emma launched herself off the chair and wobbled as quickly as she was able to the doors and freedom. "Thank you," she set one hand on Gold's shoulder in appreciation before rushing out.

* * *

Emma stared at the fire escape. She hadn't exactly thought this through all the way. Steeling herself, she reached up and began the slow, painful task of pulling herself up the ladder and onto the first landing. After several long moments and muscle straining reaches, Emma pulled herself onto the grating, laying face down and breathing heavily. She considered, briefly, the merits of tossing her cookies, but forced herself up and mounted the stairs that would lead to the window Emma had left through earlier that morning.

Shouldering the old window up, Emma slid one leg in and ducked under only to look up and find a scowling pirate.

"And where have you been, young lady," Hook asked, voice deceptively calm.

The blonde gulped, eyes going wide, "Work?"

Pushing off against the cabinet Hook stalked forward and helped Emma slide fully inside the apartment. "Work, in your condition," the man snorted. "I'm surprised you're even upright."

"It was a close call," Emma muttered.

"I came over here to bring you lunch, and what do I find," Killian ranted, "_not_ you!"

Emma shrunk slightly at the wrath in his voice, "Sorry."

"Love," Killian dropped his arms to his side, "I spent a good amount of time yesterday keeping you from drowning in the bath because you were frozen solid. Sane people don't go to work the next day."

"I said sorry," Emma shivered as he looked at her, dark eyes full of molten heat.

"Well, sorry is just not good enough," Hook advanced on Emma, grabbing her upper arm and drawing her towards the stairs. "You're going back to bed, and you're going to stay there."

Emma struggled against the grip on her arm. She had never been the type of woman who did as she was told. She huffed indignantly at the treatment, "You can't make me."

"Would you like to wager on it," Killian growled throatily, pulling Emma up the stairs and into her bedroom. "Now, you have two minutes to put your nightclothes on and then I'll tuck you in, and if you're a very good girl, I'll ready you a story."

"You suck," Emma yelled as she was pushed, gently, into her room and the door swung closed.

"Time is ticking," Hook called, voice lofty and a little smug.

Time nearly up, Emma whipped the door open and met Killian's little half smirk with a narrow-eyed glare. Hook's smirk blossomed into a smile as he took in her appearance; his tongue flitted out to wet his lips, blue eyes sparking dangerously.

"Into bed with you," Killian took a step forward as Emma stepped back.

Emma's face flashed in annoyance as she crawled into bed, "I do this under extreme protest."

"I like it when you protest, makes it more enjoyable," he breathed lowly. With a swift flick of his hand, Hook covered Emma with the blankets and comforter. Stepping back he considered his handiwork, frowned, and turned away. Tearing open the hope chest at the base of the bed, Hook tossed pillow after pillow up onto the bed.

Dropping the lid, Killian moved around the bed, fluffing the pillows and placing them against Emma's body in a wall.

"Seriously," Emma asked through gritted teeth and a forced smile.

Killian sat on the edge of the bed and continued to fluff the pillows, "I just want to make sure you're comfortable."

"If there were any more pillows in this bed, I might be smothered in my sleep," Emma huffed in annoyance.

Killian smiled a little too brightly, a clear sign that he was up to no good, "Then I've done my job. Now, I'll be in that chair right over there," he pointed at the armchair in the corner of the bedroom, "so if you need anything, I'll be right here, watching you."

"Crap," Emma sank back against the pillows, shrugging beneath the slowly building heat of the bed. With Hook on lookout there was absolutely no way that Emma would be able to escape again. "You suck."

"You continue to say that," Killian sighed as he settled in the chair, "and yet it doesn't carry the weight of your usual threats."

A frustrated shriek rang from the depths of the bed, and a warm chuckle sounded in response.

* * *

A/N: 2/12. Drop me a line to let me know what you think. Happy Holidays.


	3. The Hands & The Icicle

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

The shriek broke what Emma had hoped was going to be a more peaceful day. After being guarded by Killian, Emma had actually gotten a good bit of rest. Mary-Margaret had let her off of bed-rest on the condition that Hook went where she went.

"No," Killian pointed his hook at her, pinning her with a hard glare as she twisted to exit the booth.

"But," Emma tried, "scream?"

Hook was unimpressed, one dark brow arched at her weak argument. He was quite invested in Emma's safety and wasn't going to be swayed quite so easily, no matter how pretty a smile or wink she threw his way. Hook was actually quite immune to the pretty charms of women.

Emma pouted. Hook curled his hand into a fist, biting his cheek, "No." He sighed internally, he was quite immune to the charms of women who weren't Emma Swan, it seemed.

"But," Emma gave him a half smile with a tilt of the head, "someone could be in danger."

"And they can call your father," Killian told her with a tilt of the head to the man who was already heading towards the diner. "See?"

"Emma," Red screamed from the kitchen.

Jerking out of the booth with a helpless shrug Emma followed the hysterical noises of her friend. Killian growled and shoved himself out of the booth, stomping after Emma with a thousand curses running through his head. She was a very willful woman, a woman unlike any he had met before. Emma, he supposed, was precisely that, a woman forged in a world without magic, a world where women took what they wanted without regards to what was right or proper or traditional.

On some levels Emma irked his sensibilities. He had grown up as a navy man, and as bad a reputation as some sailors had, he had been an officer, a gentleman in every sense of the word. Becoming a pirate had not dulled his gentlemanly qualities, merely buried them until they became of use to him. To be quite fair, pirating required very little in the way of manners, though there was a code, it was far less stringent than his own personal code. More than a few had laughed at the idea of a pirate with morals. Killian had shown them the error of their ways, especially in the case that they questioned his strength or leadership.

Emma had demonstrated and demanded on multiple occasions that she was not a being who would accept protection from another. He supposed that too was down to her upbringing or the lack therein, but Killian was not one to take no for an answer. Every time Emma's hackles rose, Killian would be there to settle them, he would warn off predators, and launch himself into battle beside her, despite her objections and rejections.

The leather-clad man stood back as Emma began to investigate. It was interesting to watch her work. Well Killian would call it interesting to her father, who had just walked past him, in truth it was entrancing, hypnotizing. It was the sway of Emma's hair, the tilt of her hips, and the swell of her bottom and breasts as she moved in a positively Spartan manner, it was impossibly alluring.

"What do we have," David asked bluntly.

"Oh no," Emma shook her head, "the correct question is what do _you_ have. I just came to see what kind of payback the world has in store for you, and I kind of like it."

"Okay," David breathed heavily, in the self-sacrificing way he had, "what do _I_ have?"

"Two hands in a back ice," Emma's smile was blinding, and in most towns would have seemed rather insensitive, however Storybrooke wasn't exactly the average town. "Have fun," the blonde sheriff patted her father on the shoulder and stalked out of the kitchen.

Killian followed her path back to their table where she tossed some money next their plates and headed for the door. He had to jog a few steps to keep up with her brisk pace, something he was unaccustomed to doing.

"Hey wait up," he called as she skipped across the street with the energy of a woman who _hadn't_ been bedridden for nearly two-days, "Emma!"

"Come on," she called over her shoulder, "if you are going to be my watchdog, you need do a better job of sniffing at my heels."

"It's not your heels I'm sniffing at, Love," the blue-eyed man muttered darkly, his whole demeanor tightening and narrowing.

"Did you say something," Emma twisted as she walked, sidestepping to keep her pace up.

"Not a thing," the pirate lied with a charming grin.

Emma shrugged and tucked her hands in her pocket, "Okay, I have to go check in with Gold. Are you going to stay outside?"

The muscle in Hook's jaw ticked unhappily, "No."

"Whatever," Emma called, clearly bored with the ever-present distaste the pair held for each other.

* * *

The bell above the door tinkled lightly, "Gold?"

"I'm in the back, Sheriff," came the lilting answer.

Emma stepped into the store, not bothering to hold the door open for her unwanted and definitely unneeded companion. With practiced steps, Emma wound her way to the backroom of the shop, avoiding various boxes and cabinets with ease.

Slipping behind the glass counters and behind the curtained doorway, Emma couldn't help but remember her previous visits to the shop, some good, some bad, some utterly catastrophic. And there was the man, the man who she had underestimated and overestimated, sometimes at the same time.

"What brings you to my little shop," Gold raised his head, his long silver hair shifting with the movement.

Emma slid her hands into her back pockets, a habit to convey her façade of nonchalance which didn't quite work. "I wanted to check in and thank you for yesterday," Emma offered a little smile.

"Not a problem, Emma," he set aside his work and stood, "you look much better."

"I feel better," Emma agreed. "I'm still a little shaky, but I'm not perpetually frozen, so that's an upside."

"I imagine it would be," Gold agreed, standing and moving slowly towards Emma. "Would you care for some tea?"

"I can't," Emma smiled apologetically, "I have a guard dog waiting for me."

"Your father," Gold asked.

"You wish," Emma tilted her head backwards, "pirate."

"Ahh," it was a hiss of displeasure, "he seems quite fond of you."

A roll of the eyes was Gold's answer, "Yeah, in New York we call that stalking."

"You know, I really can't recall that being an issue in the Enchanted Forest," Gold smirked.

"And you would know," Emma returned wryly.

Gold bowed slightly, "Ah, caught red handed, Dear."

"Only you would be proud of that," Emma shook her head laughing slightly, "I'll see you around Gold."

"And you," he tipped his head in farewell as she backed out of the room.

"So," Killian began as they exited the shop, "what was that all about?"

"Nothing," Emma told him, she actually enjoyed watching him tick like a jack-in-the-box.

"_Nothing_ doesn't require a trip to see a crocodile," Killian gritted out sharply.

"I didn't go to see a crocodile."

"Fine," Hook conceded, "Rumpelstiltskin."

Emma stared at him out of the corner of her eye, "Better. I wanted to thank him for helping me out yesterday."

"You mean with frogmageddon," Killian sniffed delicately.

The snort of laughter came unbidden and unexpected, "What?"

"What," Killian asked bluntly.

Emma blinked quickly, "What the hell did you just call it."

"Oh," Killian spoke innocently, "you mean frogmageddon?"

"Yes," the blonde exclaimed, "where the hell did that come from?"

"Your son," Killian smirked as he followed Emma back towards her car.

Emma's eyes narrowed, her mouth turning downwards in a frown, "I am really starting to feel uncomfortable with you hanging out with my son."

"Mary-Margaret has me on her approved list of babysitters," Hook happily informed her.

Emma bit her cheek, "Well he's not her kid, is he?"

"No," Killian conceded, "but you are hers, and she's not exactly a woman you argue with."

"Get in the car," Emma grumbled in defeat, yanking her car door open and dropping onto the seat heavily.

Emma turned the engine over before Killian had even opened the passenger door. She waited as patiently as she could. Waiting for the pirate to sit down and reach for the door to close it before she took her foot off the brake.

"Have somewhere to be, Love," Killian asked as he yanked the door shut.

"Yep," Emma bit out, "not here."

* * *

A post breakfast nap had led to Emma finding Killian sitting back in the armchair in the corner of her room. It had been a bit of a shock, especially because Emma had begun to strip her shirt off when she spotted him. Killian had been woken from his own nap with a pillow to the face and an enraged Emma standing over him in rumpled clothing and a Regina-esque glint in her eyes.

After a thorough battering, Emma had thumped down the stairs and sworn in shock. As they had slept it had rained and sleeted and coated the town in ice.

"Holy hell," Emma stared in shock, her mouth dropping open attractively.

Killian ran a hand through his hair as he clattered down the stairs, "What is it, Emma?"

"The town has frozen over."

"What," Killian rushed to the window, his hand coming to rest against the small of Emma's back. "Well, that's certainly new."

"It was only an hour nap," Emma stared at the town through a ice cased window.

Cars were dusted in a glittering sheen of ice, roads glinted sharply, and improbably icicles hung from nearly every surface and edge. Emma's eyes narrowed in concern as her mind flicked through all of the worst-case scenarios ranging from lost toes to impalings to a giant car accident.

"This is going to be fun," she breathed dryly. "I can see it now, panic, destruction, looting, fire in the streets…Leroy doing nothing and somehow ending up in jail."

"It can't be that bad," Hook tried to console her.

"I went through dozens of ice storms in Boston," Emma shook her head, "they were bad, power lines knocked down, hysteria, and those were people who had been through ice storms before. A bunch of fairytale characters and an ice storm, yeah piece of cake."

"I'm sensing sarcasm," Killian exhaled audibly.

"You think," Emma arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "And I have a kid out there who is probably going to ice-skate through the streets."

"You could go pick him up," Killian suggested.

Emma shook her head, "No, that's amateur hour, I'm going to stock up on the essentials, and you're going to go get Henry. But _no_ talking to him."

"So you trust me with your life, with his life, but you don't want me talking to him," Hook asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Emma said. "So, go."

"That's messed up, Love, really messed up."

Emma pursed her lips, "You do realize you brought it upon yourself, right?"

"No," Hook smiled at Emma, "what I understand is that you are a very complicated woman who enjoys frustrating me at every turn."

"Mission accomplished," was the sharp reply as Emma marched towards the front door, picking up her coat and sliding it on as she unlocked the door. "Let's go, you'll have to walk, and make sure Henry doesn't forget his hat and scarf, and mittens."

"Yes, Dear," Killian smiled as sweetly as he was able. He didn't mention that Emma's mother worked at the school and would undoubtedly walk Henry home in the case of a storm like this. He also didn't mention that Emma wasn't wearing pants, and that she was about to walk out into the icy storm in a pair of cotton shorts.

Emma was certainly something and she might very well drive him into an early grave with her obstinacy. Although, considering who he was, Killian might just enjoy the whole process.

* * *

A/N: 3/12. Okay, so deep down I'm a huge GoldenSwan fan too. I really enjoy the tension that exists between Killian &amp; Gold, and the effect it has on their relationships with Emma. Anyhow, please leave me a comment. This is my present to you, so return the gift. Ta!


	4. The Innocent & The Knot

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

Emma Swan was nothing if not inventive. However, she was not the mastermind of the particular crime she was in prison for at the very moment.

"Cheer up, Love," her cellmate comforted her, "it could be worse. You could be stuck in here alone."

"Not seeing how that could be worse," Emma grumbled. "How did you get me into this, Killian!"

"Whoa, now let's not point fingers, Swan," he glared at her, jerking upwards on the cot they were apparently meant to share in the case of exhaustion.

"Oh I'm pointing the finger," Emma turned to glare at him, her finger jabbing towards him, "you were the one with the brilliant idea to go Christmas shopping, and you were the one they found stolen cash on."

"You can't believe I did it," Killian's shoulders slumped in annoyance, "I didn't just for your information. I'm a pirate, Love, not a thief, thought you would know the difference."

"Because morals are your strong point," Emma gave him a snark-filled smile before leaning back against the bars with a huff.

"I didn't take the money, I don't know where it came from, but it wasn't me," Killian argued sharply, not prepared to put up with slander against his person.

"And yet here we are, in a jail cell, _and_ I've been banned from the _only_ toy store in town," Emma ranted, "do you know what kind of pressure that is? I have to come up with an awesome present for Henry, and I can't go into the freaking toy store!"

Killian rocked himself off the cot, springing to his feet and walking towards the enraged blonde, "I'm sorry, _but_ I still did not do anything."

"I can't believe this," Emma groaned, "this isn't even my first time in here."

Killian stopped short, "In jail, you? Well this is interesting. And what knowledge has the Lady of the Law of breaking the law?"

"You have to have heard," she watched him, his whole body relaxed and radiating warmth. "Everyone has, it was on the front page of the news, I think it may be posted around town."

"Enlighten me," Hook crossed his arms and stepped a little closer to Emma.

"Neal framed me for his crime, and then Regina framed me for theft of medical records," Emma replied shortly, unimpressed by the whole topic. "I've never been squeaky clean, but I've never been honestly caught."

"And they let you become sheriff," Killian asked suspiciously.

"Pretty much."

Killian tipped his head in mild appreciation, "I'm starting to come around to this town. Crook for a sheriff and a fairly lenient one at that."

"I'm not lenient," Emma's face scrunched in annoyance. "I don't let people get away things!"

"Well, you apparently have a very empty jail cell, excepting us, and a town full of people I know are less than upstanding," Killian's tongue twisted on the words, smirk forming beneath neatly groomed facial hair.

"Yeah, well you try keeping people who have magic in prison," Emma grumbled darkly, scuffing her boot across the ground. "I can't believe my father arrested me. Granted I've arrested him before…for murder, so you know…"

"You arrested _Prince_ Charming," Killian's smirk turned to a full-blown grin, "I'll remember that, did it feel good, putting the good guy in jail?"

Emma shook her head, "I think you're forgetting that I don't actually enjoy the suffering of others. Also didn't know he was father, or that he was supposed to be the good guy." Eyes slipping shut a little, Emma blanched, "Actually I guess I _knew_ he was my father, Henry had his theory. I still believed that magic didn't exist, and ho my god was it easier to wake up in the morning back then."

Killian uncrossed his arms and slid out of his coat, leaving him in a vest that was a little too tight and a white shirt with voluminous sleeves. His hook flashed under the fluorescent lighting of the station.

To Killian, Emma was still precious. Though she was jaded in some ways, Emma was unaware of the utter truth that lay behind the concept of good and evil being black and white. He had heard through the grapevine of her initial trust of Regina, hell her trust in Rumpelstiltskin was proof that Emma was oblivious of the fundamental rules of human existence.

"You wouldn't last a day in my world," Killian let his head dip forward slightly, hiding his smile.

Emma pushed off the bars and stepped forward, poking Killian in the shoulder roughly. It gave Emma a perverse little thrill when he rocked slightly in response, "I think you're forgetting that I did survive in your world, twice."

"Is that right," Killian asked, his voice tight with humor, "I seem to recall you having a great deal of help on both occasions."

"I managed to con you and convince a giant to help imprison you," Emma argued stepping closer.

Killian inhaled deeply, head lifting and tilting, his arms dropped, "You did, but you did almost get killed by an ogre, and almost prevent your own birth, so I think my statement is justified."

"You suck, also, you didn't last a day in my world," Emma fired back. "Who got hit by a car and arrested for stalking? Oh, that's right, you."

"You are," Killian inhaled, his hand ghosting along Emma's shoulder, "very attractive when you're angry."

"Stop flirting," Emma's eyes narrowed as she took a step back, the closeness overwhelming.

* * *

"Well," a sighing, booming voice broke Emma and Killian from their un-officiated staring match, "we finally got the security footage working, and you two are in the clear."

Emma pushed off the cot and moved to the door of the cell, "I told you, well I told you _I_ was innocent, David."

"You did," the sometimes-prince agreed, "but I was just doing my job."

Emma nodded, "I get that, I do, but did you have to put me in a cell with _him_."

"Hey," Killian cried, taking offense to the thumb pointed rather emphatically in his direction.

"So who did it," Emma asked as her father began to unlock the cell.

"We don't know, but we do know he didn't have hands," the proverbial wind whistling out of David's sail.

"No hands," Killian frowned thoughtfully, "plural, both missing?"

"Yeah," David swung the door open and tipped his head in acknowledgement as his daughter rushed out. "No picture of our guy, but we did get a pretty good shot of someone floating some cash into your pockets, Hook, someone without any hands."

"That almost makes the whole thing slightly more bearable, you know because hands free framing is an art," Emma offered lightly, masking her sheer aggravation.

"Come on, Love," Killian settled his hand on her lower back and ushered her to the door, "you still have time off, Mayor's orders. Let Dear Old Dad take care of things here."

* * *

"Ugh," Emma let out a guttural scream that was trapped in her throat, "this is like being in prison again."

"You have a very odd sense of the world," Killian told her as he sat beside her on the bench overlooking the pond. "Look, the rabbits are doing their last foraging, the pond is about to freeze over, and we have the afternoon off, enjoy it."

Emma turned to look at him, "You do know that _every_ day for you is a day off."

"I prefer to think of it as freedom to do as I like," Killian corrected, "I could sail away, spend the day telling stories at the tavern, or romance a very pretty young lady."

"Yeah well, you may enjoy freedom, but to me that just means sitting around with nothing to do," Emma's body stiffened, "In a word: boredom."

"And boredom is like prison," Killian worked to understand her logic.

Pushing off the bench so she could pace in front of it, Emma tried to verbalize the idea, "In prison you sit in a cell for hours on end, then you get to walk the halls, if you're lucky, you go to the library where you read the same five books that haven't been vandalized or stolen, and then you get yard time, where you sit around and do nothing because you're pregnant. Nothing to do, nothing to look at, no one to talk to, have you ever been in prison?"

"I can't say that I've ever had the opportunity, at least not for longer than a night," Killian admitted, the tension in Emma's body visible to the naked eye.

The tension snapped, Emma's arms flying out as her feet became rooted, "It sucks! It really sucks, when I got out, I did so much."

She began to move again, voice tight, body furiously in motion. There was a wildness to Emma that she tried to bury. She was like a predator pretending to be prey, but failing on a fundamental level. Emma could blend for just long enough to flip another person's world upside down. Killian decided that she seemed to enjoy upsetting the status quo, a simple assertion of her existence in the world.

"I started from the bottom and worked my way up, I slept in my car and worked three jobs, lied about who I was because no one wanted to hire an ex-con," Emma told him, pointer finger tapping an invisible point into the air. "I became a partner in a bail-bonds service. I got to chase down the kind of people like the one that put me in jail. Best therapy in the world, but the point is I needed to be busy."

"Alright," Killian stood, "so let's do something. Anything you want, Emma, anything."

"Well," Emma paused, "How about we solve a crime?"

"Okay," Killian coughed slightly, "not _anything_. We can do anything _not_ work related."

Emma frowned, "I got nothing."

"Alright," Killian stood up, coat flapping slightly, "we're heading back the apartment. I'm going to teach you how to tie knots."

"Knots," Emma raised an eyebrow skeptically, "knots?"

* * *

"Wrong way," Killian frowned as he sat on the kitchen chair watching as Emma knelt at his feet. The image was actually quite good fodder for his imagination, but Killian was a little wrapped up at the moment. _Literally_. Emma was in the process of tying him to the chair using a series of knots Killian had taught her.

"Yeah well it looks the same," Emma jerked the rope a little harder than necessary.

Killian grunted as the rope bit into his skin, "But it won't work the same way, Emma."

"Fine," she grumbled, undoing the last twist of rope and following Killian's instructions to the letter. "Better?"

"Perfect, now my hands," Killian presented his arms, wrists pressed together.

Emma met his challenge with a grin, swiftly wrapping the rope around the pirate's forearms, looping and knotting the length of rope firmly. After several long moments Emma sat back on her heels, dropping Killian's hands into his lap. The picture was interesting, to say the least. Killian's legs were bound to the legs of the chair, his arms bound from elbow to wrist, criss-crossed and knotted in multiple spots.

Emma's victim jerked at the rope, smiling faintly, "Not bad, Swan, not bad at all."

"Really," Emma stood up, "you mean that?"

"I do," Killian held his wrists up, "now, mind releasing me?"

"Actually," Emma hissed, teeth clenched as she backed up a step, "I do mind."

"Love," Killian's face darkened instantly. Perhaps he had been too trusting, she had agreed to his plan rather easily.

"See you later," Emma leaned into Killian's face, noses brushing, "I'm going to go solve a crime." Stepping backward with a cat's grin, Emma picked up her coat and swept out of the apartment. She could only laugh as Killian shouted at her.

* * *

A/N: 4/12. Thank you to my one reviewer, I really appreciate the note. I definitely had a nightmare about feedback this morning so it was a lovely surprise. Happy Holidays, ta!


	5. The Roots & The Bath

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

Thursday afternoon found a thawed Storybrooke. The night had not perpetuated the cold snap that had plunged the town into a literal frozen wonderland. There had been a good amount of panic, two car crashes, and several cases of hypothermia, and more than thirty frantic calls to the police station, but after two nights of dullness punctuated with utter terror, things were back to normal.

Emma, Mary-Margaret, Henry, and Killian had been ensconced warmly in the apartment, far away from the worry of the world below them. David had not been quite so lucky. He had drawn the short straw, and Emma had, after boring of the case of the no-handed-man, retreated back to the apartment to entertain herself.

In all truth, Emma had actually spent her time working on the case ruminating on how she had blown up on Killian and then left him tied to a chair. She had slunk back in to find Killian freed and absolutely no mention of him being trapped from Mary-Margaret. Unfortunately that was not the end of it. Emma had curled up on the couch beside Henry to watch a film with him, and out of the corner of her eye managed to catch a glimpse of Hook, _Killian_, rubbing his arms. There was a flash of darkened skin peeking from beneath his shirt. Emma had bruised him, or rather he his improbable escape had resulted in bruises that he had kept absolutely silent about.

Emma wasn't accustomed to apologizing, she had learned early on in her life that apologies meant little in the real world, and the guiltier she felt the more she recalled the pointlessness of apologies. It was a survival technique. If she didn't care it wouldn't hurt.

That worked for Emma in nine out of ten cases, the one case it didn't work always seemed to coincide with all of Emma's escape routes being systematically cut off. Emma, in those situations, became the rat in maze looking for cheese but only ever finding traps.

Mary-Margaret had unwittingly placed a trap at every one of Emma's escape routes. The maze had been innocuous at first glance, a favor, but like all good mazes, the victim realized too late exactly what they had stumbled into. Emma's day off, willingly taken, had been taken over with a doe-eyed glance and a pretty smile.

So Emma had put on a pair of borrowed galoshes and presented herself at the elementary school to help with the Christmas field trip. Henry had been ecstatic about Emma's presence, latching onto her like a flea on a dog before abandoning her to go work with his friends. Emma didn't have a chance to feel abandoned, however, because Henry's spot at her side was quickly filled with precisely the person Emma was attempting to avoid.

"Morning, Love," Killian grinned, hand tucked under the fabric between the buttons of his vest.

"Hook," Emma exhaled sharply.

"Killian, Love, we've been over this," he leaned into her, "missed you at breakfast, Henry did a wonderful impression of Charming, sword-fighting included."

The blonde shook her head in an attempt to move her hair away from her neck, "Sorry I missed it."

"Mary-Margaret didn't know where you went," Killian continued. "Henry was disappointed. He even insisted that we order you're a hot chocolate in case you showed up."

"Oh my god," Emma groaned, her face turning dark, "what did you do, take guilt-trip lessons from my _mother_?"

"So you feel guilty," Killian asked.

"No," was the automatic response. "Now shut up, I'm trying to listen to instructions."

The instructions weren't so much instructions as a reminder not to throw clumps of half frozen dirt as the children helped the adults to unearth Christmas trees to be replanted in planters and sold in the town square. It was a tradition in town, _for as long as anyone could remember_ at least. Regina wasn't exactly welcome at this kind of thing, and apparently she hadn't been a past visitor, so Henry had begged Emma to come with. He had roped Mary-Margaret in to help him in his pursuit, and between the two of them they had managed to con Emma into showing up ready to work.

"You don't mind," Killian's smooth voice slipped into the chilly air, "Henry asked me to come, I didn't want to make the lad frown, so I agreed. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Emma denied, "why would I mind."

"I don't know," Killian shrugged, "you seem to be avoiding me, and you haven't looked at me once in the last five minutes."

"No idea what you're talking about," Emma spoke lightly, eyes carefully fixing on the back of Henry's head.

Killian's response went unheard as Mary-Margaret clapped her hands and everyone broke into a flurry of movement. Emma strode forward with purpose, taking up a shovel and looking for anyone to work with besides the one person who was clearly eager to work with her.

The systematic pairing off of people, students and adults, was almost an audible snap as yet another of Emma's escape routes became a trap. Glowering darkly, Emma walked stiffly towards Killian. She brandished the shovel more like a weapon than a tool, sorely tempted to use the shovel as a blunt instrument and then a means to dispose of the body. _That_ was how much Emma wanted to avoid Killian Jones, her unwitting victim.

Happily, Killian seemed to understand that Emma was in no mood to actually converse. That or he had seen her miming a murder, which she had, shamefully, been caught doing by her mother who had given her the 'we'll be talking about this later' look. They worked in silence disrupted only by soft grunts of exertion and the sound of the shovel hitting frozen patches of dirt and rock.

The morning wore on terribly slowly; tree after tree was unearthed and transferred to a pot. Somewhere in the middle of the fifth tree, Emma had decided that enough was enough. "I'm sorry," she muttered so quickly that the words didn't actually have distinct sounds.

"About," Killian asked, having no trouble discerning the meaning of Emma's verbiage.

Emma slammed the shovel into the ground, letting it stand on its own. Hands on hips Emma breathed heavily, "I'm sorry."

"I got that bit," Killian prompted her, "what are you sorry for, Love?"

"I hurt you," Emma gritted out, "Your arms are all bruised up."

Killian straightened from his spot at the base of the tree, "No, Love."

"I did."

"No," Killian shook his head, dirt laden hands pushing into his hair, leaving streaks of black on his temples. "Emma, Love, I am a _very_ stubborn man. I don't take being conned easily, I bruised myself getting out of the ropes, it was not your fault."

"You're kind of missing the point," Emma told him. "I left you there, I ran, and left you totally tied up."

"Yes," Killian told her, "I understand that completely. I'm just telling you that it is not your fault, Emma."

"It is," Emma growled, "can you just be mad at me or something?"

Killian shook his head, "No, I can't. Now are you going to help me put these trees into a better place or are you going to continue pouting?"

A huff of laughter broke the silence, "That sounds like you're murdering them."

"That could be arranged," Killian told her in his darkest voice, pausing dramatically.

"Shut up."

* * *

"Beer is _so_ good," Emma sighed as she relaxed against the mast of Leroy's boat.

"It's not rum," Killian took a swig of his beer, "but it is better than a lot of the swill I drank in the Enchanted Forest."

"Yeah," Emma sniffed before swallowing the last of her beer. "I don't get that place, well I _get_ it, I just don't get the nostalgia about the food and grog. I ate chimera, not delicious."

"You have a point, Love," Killian's jaw dropped in a yawn and he slid his arm around Emma's shoulders. "Chimera not exactly the best meat on the menu, however, I used to know this little place that made the best chocolate cake in the whole of the universes. Beats Granny's, hands down."

"No," Emma scoffed, "Granny's is so yummy that I think she may have made a deal with Gold."

Killian plucked the empty bottle from her fingers and swapped it for a fresh bottle. He moved to snap the cap off with his hook, but Emma had already knocked the cap off against the side of the boat.

"Impressive," blue eyes twinkled with the humor Killian's voice didn't betray.

Emma nodded seriously, "I've got skills."

"Everything you say is absolutely charming, even if it is entirely ridiculous," Killian smirked as he grabbed a new beer for himself. "I can't believe your mother hosed us down."

"You should," Emma snorted, "this is the woman who apparently stole my father's engagement ring, unleashed the Ruby on the unsuspecting populace, and kicked a man out of a window."

"Really," the pirate asked, "well, there are tales I heard when I was in the Enchanted Forest, but still, she hosed us down!"

"Well she did tell us we weren't allowed to come inside until we were clean, we complained, she solved her problem," Emma summed up the situation quite easily. "I'm surprised she hasn't done it before. She has a bit of a dark side for being such a white-hat."

"Imagine if she teamed up with Regina," Killian tipped his head back, watching the stars become obscured by drifting clouds.

Shivers wracked Emma's body, "That is a terrifying thought. Never, ever, ever bring that up again, under pain of death."

"Agreed."

"That is truly terrifying," Emma's lips turned down, "I'm starting to see why Henry was so paranoid about Regina. I mean, Mary-Margaret _good_ is intimidating enough, if she went bad I don't think there would be anything that would stop her."

"I thought we were done tempting fate," Killian asked.

"Well," Emma laughed, "_that_ will certainly tempt them if the idea doesn't."

Killian shook his head, "No one has given me a bath since I was a lad barely out of nappies."

"Yeah," Emma shrugged, "not fun, imagine if she were _your_ mother."

Killian's eyes darkened and he leaned towards Emma, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, "Well, you know what they say, a burden shared is a burden halved."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean," Emma jerked slightly at the sensation of his warm breath on her tender flesh.

Killian pressed a kiss t her cheek, "I'll let you figure that out, Love."

Her face fell and she busied herself with gulping her beer. Killian Jones was a conundrum, one minute he was all bravado, the next he was sweet, and two seconds after that he was saying things and touching her. Emma was bound to get whiplash if he didn't slow his roll. Emma's stomach rolled as she considered his statement, especially regarding her mother. There were very few options for precisely what Killian had meant, and as much as Emma enjoyed playing the dumb blonde, she was hardly that.

Sitting beneath the winter sky watching the clouds drift across the sky, stars winking in and out of sight as if by the whims of the gods, Emma let the beer numb her, a pleasant humming resonating through her body. _Yep_, she considered, Killian had just, in a roundabout way, vaguely proposed to her. If Emma had been remotely sober she would have risen to her feet, ignored her unsteady sea-legs and run away. That was not an option, so Emma kept drinking, hoping that maybe by the time the beer was gone so would the memory of Killian's words.

* * *

A/N: 5/25. Whoo, it was a long afternoon. One more day before break, thanks for the reviews and Happy Holidays!


	6. The Circle & The Wish

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

Emma had gone back to work on Friday with a semi-permanent shadow. Hook had been fairly bored as of late. He wasn't really a part of the town yet, he was still in limbo. Killian, unlike the others in Storybrooke didn't have family or a job. He had latched onto Emma, flirting and attempting to insert himself into her life. His faux-proposal was a joking attempt to solidify his position as something in her life. Even the new transplants, rare though they were, had some connection. Robin Hood had his men and had taken up protecting the town, Ariel had spent time befriending everyone she could in search of her prince.

Killian had bits and pieces of his crew and his bitter hatred for Gold. There wasn't much positive in his life, Neal had died, and he wasn't exactly gainfully employed. Mary-Margaret had helpfully hinted that maybe he should help Emma and David at the station because _clearly_ they were understaffed, criminally so at times. That news had brought both employed law enforcement agents to their knees in fits of laughter. Killian however had arrived at Emma's door bright and early with coffee and a smile ready to learn.

Sighing in her office, Emma peered out at her father and Killian who were glaring at each other from their respective desks. And if that concept wasn't disturbing enough, Killian had actually _filed_ something earlier. He hadn't done it right, but he had done something. Emma's own work had been abandoned in favor of watching the subtle tug and pull of the men in the bullpen.

Her phone beeped loudly, shocking Emma enough to slosh her lukewarm coffee onto her pants. Sliding her feet off the desk Emma picked up the phone, "Sheriff Swan."

"Emma," Gold's voice echoed down the phone line, oddly distorted.

"Gold," Emma frowned, "where are you, you sound kind of funny."

The phone crackled oddly, "I'm at the convent. I was collecting the rent when we found something rather interesting."

"I'll be there in a little while," Emma breathed, "just don't touch anything."

Gold's soft breath shuffled down the line, "I'll be waiting."

The call ended with a sharp squeal and Emma rocked to her feet, pulling her gun from her desk drawer and strapping it to her waist. If there was something to be said about living in a small town that only existed for some, it was that they certainly had some very interesting goings on. Shrugging into her jacket Emma opened her door and stepped into the bullpen. She stopped in her tracks when a rubber band went shooting past her head.

"What the hell," her arms raised in disbelief at two grown men's apparent infantile behavior.

David shot up from his chair, "Emma, I'm sorry, sweetheart, I was aiming at _him_."

"Seriously," Emma asked flatly, "and they were going to let you run a country or land or whatever, seriously!"

"Sorry, Love," Killian stood up, inclining his head apologetically.

David glared at Killian again, "Don't call her that!"

Emma rolled her eyes with a groan and stalked out of the station, closely followed by two bumbling idiots.

"What's happening, Emma," David asked, pulling out the keys to the cruiser and unlocking the door.

"Gold called, something weird is going on at the convent, I think," Emma slid into the passenger seat, trying to pretend that Killian wasn't sitting behind her, leaning forward far enough that she could feel his breath on her neck.

"And you come when he calls," Killian snorted.

"It's our job," David growled as he started the car and spun the wheel as he pulled onto the road. "We don't have a choice in who we help."

Emma shook her head and slid her phone out of her pocket, glancing at the messages that Henry had sent her. Emma responded absently, reminding him it to bring home his gloves and hat.

"So what did Gold say was going on," David pressed.

Shrugging the blonde rubbed her neck, pinching the muscle lightly, "He didn't say much, the connection was pretty bad."

"Well I don't see any clouds of death or screaming people, so that must be a good sign," David breathed.

* * *

Emma raced up the steps to the convent, skipping every other step in her haste. She pulled the door open and slipped inside the hallowed halls. Emma's boot heels clicked against the flagstones, "Gold?"

A shaggy head popped into the hallway, "Down here, Emma." Her pace quickened, one hand sliding to her gun reflexively.

* * *

Eyes wide, Emma stared at what was in front of her. It wasn't much, it looked like a flour circle on the ground. If Emma didn't actually trust Gold to some degree she would have yelled at him for this hoax, it wasn't however. Gold was squatting beside the circle, hand splayed open, face an expressionless mask. Emma took a large step forward and settled herself beside Gold. She watched him, glancing between him and the circle, waiting for something to happen, anything.

Behind them a handful of fairy's turned nuns were huddled, whispering frantically, attempting to solve the mystery of the circle. Emma had gathered through eavesdropping that it had appeared overnight after the nuns had begun to move the donated toys from the room.

"Anything," Emma asked quietly.

Gold shook his head, hand relaxing, "No. I'm afraid this a bit of a puzzle to me."

"Why are you so certain it's magic then," Emma asked.

His mouth opened before closing swiftly, Gold reached for Emma's hand, holding it palm out near the circle. He inhaled and exhaled, "Close your eyes and regulate your breathing, then try to sense what's there."

Emma sighed, glancing at him warily. Reluctantly she closed her eyes, synchronizing her breathing with Gold's steady pattern. The chatter of the nuns fell away, and Emma even missed the entrance of the two bumbling, fighting idiots. Her brow crinkled sharply, she couldn't feel anything. There was nothing out of the norm with the circle.

"Nothing, I don't feel anything," Emma's eyes snapped open, she pepered at Gold, her confusion echoed in his eyes.

"And that is exactly the problem," Gold rose to his feet, "if it were normal, you would feel something, anything."

"So what does that mean," Emma prodded.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer," he shrugged. "I really am out of my element, Ms. Swan."

"Great," Emma grumbled and moved to stand, Killian rushed forward to help her, "I'm fine." His unwanted help managed to cause them both to trip forward and cross the white line.

"Oh my," Gold breathed, backing a step away. He held David back as he moved to pull his daughter from the offending circle, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, not until we know more."

"Emma," David's face was slack, worry flashing dangerously in his eyes. "Emma, what do you feel?"

"I don't know," Emma shook her head, before she calmed herself and repeated the process Gold had walked her through only moments before.

Her brow creased in concentration and her lips tightened as she forced everything but the circle from her mind. Nothing felt different, except…except Emma smelled peppermint and holly. It was an odd mixture of scents, they weren't rare, especially during this season, but they hadn't been there a moment ago. The blonde shook the smell from her nose and refocused, trying to force her other senses to focus. Emma nearly flinched as the sharp tingling of bells sounded before receding just as quickly.

"Bells, and peppermint and holly," Emma breathed, opening her eyes and looking immediately to Gold. "I can kind of sense it now, hear it too."

Killian frowned, "I can't sense any of that."

"You wouldn't, you don't have magic. But, Emma, that is very interesting," Gold peered at her, "I still feel nothing." One long, gnarled hand slipped up to cover Gold's mouth, "Who was in here last night, who helped move the presents?"

Nova whimpered and shyly raised her hand, "Me. It was my job."

Gold took an imperious step towards the curly-haired fairy, "Was there anything out of the ordinary, strange presents, strange people, anything at all?"

"No," Nova frenetically shook her head, "I don't think so, I don't know! Oh, this is all my fault!"

The Blue Fairy pulled the younger fairy into a hug, "Try to calm down, tell me what you saw, anything that made you curious."

She nodded, licking her lips and swallowing before stalking, "Well, there were the usual toys, and then there was a box…it was really dusty, so I emptied it. There was a flute and a little bell, it was really pretty, I don't remember putting moving it though."

"Good," The Blue Fairy nodded encouragingly.

"Very good," Gold agreed. "Emma, Dear, if you would please step forward and attempt to leave the circle."

As far as ideas went, Emma didn't think his one carried much water. It seemed like the precursor to a serious amount of pain. Emma, however, was out of luck and didn't actually have a better way to solve her problem. With a measured step, Emma literally toed the line and was immediately pushed back into Hook's arms.

"Emma," David cried, "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Emma nodded, "It didn't hurt. It really only felt like pressure pushing me back."

"A curse," Gold sighed, mouth tightening sharply. "The question remains what it was meant to do, and how it was triggered."

"I was thinking about how nice bells were when I was holding it, when I was in training the bells were a symbol of togetherness," Nova mused.

A light blinked into existence between Gold and Emma. Gold grinned, "I think I understand. The circle is a manifestation of the curse, when people enter the circle it forces them to stay together, to promote togetherness, or closeness. If Emma had crossed the line alone, she may have been able to exit without any problems."

"So we're stuck in here," Killian frowned, moving to pace but finding there simply wasn't the space for it. "Great."

"No," Emma looked at him sharply, "You don't get to be pissed, or annoyed. I do, I was perfectly fine until you tried to help."

"I'm sorry," Hook growled, "This is all my fault, does that make you happy."

"What makes me happy is having some personal space," Emma told him pointedly. "I get it, I do, you're all alone here, but I am going crazy. It's like a conspiracy."

"What is," Gold frowned.

Emma spun to face him, "I get up and he's here, in my bedroom, my own mother and son have teamed up to force us together, and now he's following me at work and making my _father_ behave like a two year-old. So yeah, conspiracy feels about right."

"Perhaps that is the answer, much as I am loathe to admit it," the deal-maker sniffed, unimpressed with the potential solution. "The circle seems to be requiring your closeness, if you begin to get along you may break the curse."

"Easy," Emma said tightly, her whole body coiled like a spring. "We get along fine."

"Really," David asked, one hand scratching through his hair.

"Yeah," Killian frowned, "Really? Because I have to tell you, if this is fine, I would really hate to see mad."

"You've seen mad," Emma huffed, "I tied you to a tree and threatened you."

"Look," David rubbed his jaw, "the last thing I want is for you two to get along, but Gold may have a point. Maybe you two should try to make nice."

"Ooh," Nova smiled dazedly, "you two should hug!"

"Fine," Emma said stiffly, stepping into Killian's body and patting his back uneasily. He had no qualms and embraced her tightly. Nothing happened for a moment, and as Emma began to relax a bright light pulsed outwards. Gold had been entirely right about the curse. Emma didn't mind that, Killian did.

* * *

A/N: 6/12. Slightly late, but I have been setting up the Christmas tree. Well, happy holidays all!


	7. The Boots & The Coins

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

After the utter stupidity of being trapped in a circle with Killian, Emma had decided that Saturday would be spent relaxing. Well, Saturday night at the very least. The day had been the usual chaos of fairytale characters crying wolf…especially because Ruby had gone running. Emma had made a deal with her father, she would take the morning shift so he could spend the day with Mary-Margaret and the baby, and he would take the night shift so he could avoid the late night wake-ups and Emma could go and relax with her friends.

"Is this really what you do all day," Killian spoke from the chair across from her.

The blonde shrugged, scraping her hands through her hair as she pulled it up into a ponytail. "Sometimes," Emma blinked quickly, "small towns are like that."

"I wouldn't know," Killian twisted his hook, watching the sheen of his reflection ripple. "I was on a boat for most of my life, and in my academy days I was in the city."

"Navy, right," Emma spoke slowly. "Did you like it?"

Killian's face became shadowed and highlighted, a paradox of emotions. "I loved it," he smiled easily. "It was the best thing in the world, I got to go on adventures, I had purpose, I had a family. It was also terrible. In one fell swoop I lost my brother and learned that the _King_ I had pledged my sword and life to was not worth my fealty."

"You never see it coming, do you," Emma folded her arms over her chest, abandoning the paperwork she had set out to complete earlier.

The pirate chuckled humorlessly, "No, and it always comes when we need it least."

"Does anyone _need_ to be betrayed," Emma's eyebrow quirked up in silent laughter at the sentiment.

The laughter that issued from Killian at that was genuine. "I suppose not, but when has the world ever done what we need?"

"Hm," Emma considered with a frown, "Never, pretty sure that's the answer."

"Exactly," Killian nodded sharply, the tip of his hook scratching carefully at the back of his neck. "In this life, Love, we have to make our own luck."

"So what," Emma grinned mischievously, "every man for himself?"

"And woman," Hook corrected, "Although I am not entirely opposed to the odd alliance which will be beneficial to both parties."

"How progressive of you," Emma snickered. "So what, you think we should do the backstabbing?"

"Hurts less."

Emma shook her head and rolled her eyes. Killian Jones was certainly something. At every turn he surprised her just a little bit, perhaps it was because they were more than a little similar. Not that Emma would ever admit to that out loud. It rang too true, abandonment, loss of important figures in their lives, betrayal, and lovelorn. Killian had read her _just_as easily as a book. It had made Emma terribly uncomfortable, she had gotten very good at hiding everything as a child.

"Aren't there codes about that stuff," Emma frowned, "you know for pirates?"

"Ah," Killian winked at her, "the tenets of piracy, sacred rules that no one ever really bothers to write down and put in plain sight. Mostly I used word of mouth, add to them as things become problematic, you know how it goes."

"I _really_ don't," Emma shook her head, "I know jail rules, those were pretty sacred. Thou shalt not drink thy cellmate's toilet wine. You know common sense to keep from getting shanked."

"I only understood about half of that," Killian's face darkened in confusion. "Is a shank not a cut of meat?"

"Improvised blade," Emma told him, "I got really good at carving those. I used to trade them for saltines when I had morning sickness."

The dark haired man frowned, face creasing slightly in confusion. Emma was certainly an interesting woman. As transparent as she was at times, there were other parts of her that were complete mysteries. If he had met her in the Enchanted Forest, Killian would have probably passed her by. She would have been a princess, forbidden and his enemy. Here, however, Emma had thrived. She had grown into her own woman, free of the politics of the drama of being royalty. _This_ world, this world free of magic had created a woman so far from a princess that Killian sometimes forgot that she was precisely that.

"You are a series of surprises," the blue eyed man leaned forward, examining Emma closely. "First I learn you are a pretty little bird that was jailed, now I learn you crafted weaponry while in jail, what next, Emma?"

"You know," Emma leaned back, "I actually have a very wide range of skills."

"Such as," Hook prompted.

Lifting her arms in the air stretching methodically, "Well, I can pick a lock and hot wire a car, I know how to do a little computer hacking, and I'm not half bad at playing bait."

"Bait," Killian repeated, "For what?"

"Men," Emma smiled predatorily, her teeth glinting in the sunlight.

His Adam's apple bobbed sharply as Hook swallowed, "I have a dreadful feeling I'm going to regret asking, but why?"

"I was a bounty hunter before I came to Storybrooke," Emma began, "I would hunt down bail jumpers, entrap them with a skinny dress and some _very_ high heels, and then knock them out and drag them to court."

"You terrify me, Love," Hook laughed. "Just how many men have you lured to their doom?"

Emma hummed ambivalently, "I lost track."

"Viper," Killian hissed playfully, smiling brightly. Emma snorted at the face he was making, all semblance of seriousness evaporating. "Seriously, this is what you do for a living now?"

"Yep," Emma popped the last letter loudly.

* * *

The trade off happened at two in afternoon, Emma waved goodbye and exited the station, Killian following after, coat flapping in the wind. Not that Emma would ever say it out loud, but the coat was kind of hot. Leaving her car, Emma headed straight to the only real bar in town, sure Granny's was nice, but it wasn't a Saturday night or afternoon drinking place. People judged you if you were six sheets to the wind before dinner at Granny's.

The Rabbit Hole was as dive as Storybrooke really got, well, unless Emma had totally missed the underground scene, which would be a real disappointment. Emma, despite being less adventurous than in her pre-jail years, was still much more adventurous than anything Storybrooke seemed to offer. Although, if August ever grew up things might become a lot more exciting, he seemed to enjoy the hookers and strippers, and the alcohol a whole lot.

Dropping onto the first barstool she saw, Emma nodded her head at the bartender. He knew her well enough, and shockingly not from any calls. The sheriff had actually made herself a bit of a regular at The Rabbit Hole. It was where the less goody-goody people hung out. Leroy had actually turned her onto it after one very long night in the drunk tank. Emma had been immeasurably thankful; she had begun to tire of pretending her orange juice wasn't spiked with a bottle of vodka.

"Emma," the man greeted, plunking a tumbler of whiskey in front of her. "Long day?"

"Long week," she offered. "Anything fun going on here?"

"We fixed the dart board."

"It's on," Emma grinned viciously. She slung back the liquor, a soft gasp falling from her lips once the liquid hit her gullet. "Hook, you want to play?"

"I suppose," Killian sighed as he sat down beside Emma not sure where the afternoon was going to take him, "I'll take a rum, Mate." Killian figured that if Emma was determined to have fun, he may as well join in.

* * *

Killian had once again been surprised by Emma Swan. She had pounded shot after shot, her whole demeanor shifting as she imbibed. Her leather jacket had been shed and Emma had actually laughed freely and happily. Emma had actually giggled and clapped her hands when Killian had at long last conceded to playing darts with her. He had quickly found himself dragged into a dark corner and forcefully handed a chunk of darts, the points pricking his palm in spots.

He had won the first round, but that was the only round he won. Emma had slammed back another two shots and forced him to match her drink for drink before whipping him on the dartboard.

The next shift had been the discarding of her shoes. The boots were tugged off and left to molder under a table. The last shift had been oddly enjoyable for Killian. Emma had begun to dig through his pockets in search of coins, she wanted to play the boxing game, and as she told him very sternly, "Ladies never jingled." Killian had been a bit of a disappointment in that respect, he didn't carry much in the way of money, and what money he did have was not standard currency for this world. Her disappointment had led to Emma pouting and taking up residence on Killian's lap in an effort to annoy and punish him. Oddly the tactic had not been very successful.

The night had ended with Killian carrying a sleeping Emma over his shoulder, her boots dangling from his hook. Before Emma had totally fallen asleep she had given an entire edict on the miracles of this particular pair of boots, so the pirate had carefully gathered up Emma and her precious boots and carried them both home.

After tucking Emma in bed and pressing a gentle kiss to the blonde's head, Hook sat her boots by her door, a grin crossing his face. "Sleep tight, Emma."

* * *

"Mom," Henry called, bouncing on Emma's bed roughly. Emma jolted, her mouth tightening at the rocking sensation. "Mom, look!"

Emma cracked open her eyes, trying to figure out how she had gotten home and when. "What is it, Henry?"

"Your boots are filled with gold coins," Henry smiled in awe as he began to dump the coins onto the bedcovers.

Emma struggled to sit up as the coins rained down on her. Mouth falling open slightly, it came to her exactly how she had gotten home, and who exactly had filled her boots with hundreds of coins. _Killian_, Killian, who Emma had practically molested in her search for coins. Shaking her head slightly, Emma couldn't help but smile. The stupid pirate was a seriously charming bastard, and she couldn't even be a little bit mad at him.

* * *

A/N: 7/12. This may kill me. I've been writing about 3500 words in the span of 4 hours each night. So exhausted. Thanks for the reviews and happy holidays!


	8. The Wine & The Kiss

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

Emma plunked a bottle of wine down on the table, "I ordered Chinese."

"Have I missed something," Killian frowned as he set down the book he had been skimming.

"The coins," Emma's eyes swept away from Killian, finding anything to look at but him, "That was actually a kind of nice thing."

"Alright," Killian said slowly, "Still not following you entirely, Love."

"You did something nice for me," Emma rushed out, "So I'm going to try to be a little nicer to you, okay, good."

"Alright," Killian sat up, "I'm beginning to understand, but a little further explanation wouldn't go amiss."

Emma scowled in annoyance. Killian Jones really wasn't going to make this easier on her. "Henry is with Regina, Granny is watching the baby, and my parents are having date night."

"Little more," Killian folded his hands on the table.

"We're having dinner, okay, good."

Killian wanted to laugh, but he squelched the noise, eyes sparking brightly in the low light of the apartment. Emma looked extremely uncomfortable as it was, if he laughed, Emma would probably shoot him.

"Alright," the dark haired man smiled easily.

"Here, open this," Emma thrust the wine towards him, as she backed away, spinning towards the kitchen to grab plates and glasses.

Killian shrugged out of his coat and rolled his sleeves up before taking the bottle in hand and jamming the point of his hook into the cork and yanking it up and out.

"Convenient," Emma mused. "So, how was your day?"

"Really, Emma," Killian set the bottle down and tugged the cork off his hook, "you want to talk about my day?"

Emma's expression shifted to one of frustration before she forced a smile onto her lips, "No, but I'm not good at this, so give me a break."

Killian scratched at his throat before smiling tightly, "Okay, my day was dull. I played catch with Henry, and I got a book from the library. And you, Emma?"

"I had a hangover, and my son jumped on my bed while I had a hangover," Emma offered.

"Try being smashed on rum while on a boat," Killian grinned and held the bottle of wine out to pour Emma a glass "_That_ is a hangover."

"Why rum," Emma asked, "I never got it, all pirates seem to love rum. I just thought it was a stereotype."

Dark brows rose, "I've never thought about it, odd."

"So why," Emma offered him one of the full glasses, "I mean there has to be a reason."

"It tastes good," Killian offered offhandedly, sipping his wine. "There always seemed to be an abundance of it."

"Yeah," Emma coughed slightly, "There may be a reason where there was so much of it, and might be because it's terrible."

"It is not terrible," Killian pointed his hook at her accusingly, "You're just uneducated in the ways of alcohol."

"Uneducated," Emma snorted, "Okay, I'll concede that rum isn't the _worst_ alcohol in the world. I've definitely had some truly terrible liquor in my day."

"See, you're giving rum a bad rap, Sweetheart," Killian smirked.

Emma shook her head and took a deep swallow of her wine. She settled into her chair and began to set the table. They sat and drank in companionable silence, waiting for the knock on the door that would signal the next stage of potential awkwardness.

Emma studiously avoided looking directly at Killian, but eyeing him up in furtive glances. With the coat gone, Killian remained in his heavy leather vest, and black shirt, he looked good, his eyes lined with kohl making the blue of his irises pop. Eyes drifting down, Emma caught the line of his throat following it down to Killian's chest, smattered with dark hair, displayed by the gaping shirt. Oh yeah, Emma was starting to become a big fan of the pirate garb, as long as anyone who wore it was as firmly built as Killian.

The hardcover book was a very nice cover for Killian, he kept his eyes trained just above the top of the page, giving him a perfect view of Emma. Biting down sharply on the inside of his cheek, Killian forced his face to stay passive as he watched Emma stare at her wine glass, her eyes flashing up at him for a split second before she averted her gaze. The process repeated, Emma glancing between him and anything that wasn't him. It was an interesting page to add to Killian's study of Emma's character. The bravado Emma exuded in public had disappeared, and in its place was timidity. The pirate supposed that came from a lack of control, a lack of purpose in the situation at hand.

The utter coyness of Emma as she sat in the apartment, lights dim, candles casting odd shadows across her face, was maddening. Killian forced his breathing to regulate as he watched her over the top of the book. Her hair was curled and tumbling around her face, the usual tenseness of her facial features was gone; Emma looked as peaceful as when she slept. Her standard leather jacket and long sleeve shirt had been forgone in favor of a low cut blouse with string-like straps. She looked beautiful, skin glowing warmly in the candlelight.

The pipes groaned, reminding Emma that being quiet was really rather awkward. "Have you had Chinese before?"

"Once," Hook set the book aside, "although it was hospital food, and I've come to understand hospital food is not very good."

"It's one step above prison food," Emma agreed. "Which you would understand."

"That I do, Love, that I do."

"So what did you end up in prison for," Emma asked inquisitively, "I was in for theft, but you already knew that."

"Depends on the time," Killian grinned, leaning across the table conspiratorially, "The first time was for lewd behavior in public, then there were a few charges of piracy, and well you know my most recent stint."

"And you escaped," Emma peered at the pirate, trying to determine if he was lying.

Killian sniffed and leaned back, "Aye, Love, escaped with nothing but the clothes on my back and my ship."

Her teeth were bared immediately, like a shark scenting blood, Emma pounced. "Liar, tell the truth."

Running his hand across his beard Killian's mouth tightened, "Alright I lied, but you can't tell anyone the truth."

"Deal," Emma stretched her hand out for Killian to shake, "Now spill."

Killian hooked a finger, urging Emma to lean closer, "I may have kissed a man who was rather sweet on me, I don't think he appreciated the lump on the head."

Emma's eyes popped open as the words fell from his lips, they were soft and sweet but what those words _were_ made all the difference. "Seriously," Emma's voice was filled with shock. "No, no, I don't believe you."

"Am I lying," Killian's face was all seriousness.

Her eyes scanned his face, he wasn't lying. He had actually kissed a man to escape jail. Not that Emma could use this as fodder; she had done a lot of things in her conwoman life. She had definitely kissed her fair share of women, after all, she was a very open minded kind of girl.

"Alright," Emma smiled, "you were telling the truth, but I have to know, how many other people know this story."

"Just you and me," Killian smirked, "So if this gets out, I'll know exactly who let it out."

"You suck," Emma grumbled.

Killian's mouth opened in preparation to fire a rather lewd comment back but a heavy knock on the door, "That'll be the food, then?"

Emma nodded as she rose and crossed to the door, pulling back the heavy lock and swinging the door open. With minimal speaking money and food changed hands, Emma tossing a courtesy thanks behind her as she kicked the door shut and dropped the heavy lock into place with a thunk.

"Dinner is served," Emma dropped the brown paper bag onto the table and began to rifle through the contents, pulling out carton after carton of food. Killian pulled a box closer and squeezed the sides, sliding a finger under the flap and popping the white container open. Setting that one aside, he repeated the process, peering curiously at the contents.

"I haven't a clue about what any of this is," Killian sighed, "Wait, I got this one, this one is rice."

The warm laughter that filled the apartment at Killian's excited exclamation was well worth the slight embarrassment of the dark haired man. "It is rice," Emma agreed as she pulled a pair of chopsticks out of their paper holder and began to scoop the various dishes onto her plate.

Killian stared at her in confusion and horror, "What the hell are you using sticks for?"

"Chopsticks," Emma told him, offering a fresh pair to him.

Killian took the sticks and stared at them in confusion, "Exactly what am I supposed to do with this nonsense?"

Emma laughed, stood up and moved around the table and sat beside Killian, wrapping her hand around his, manipulating his fingers into the correct position to hold the sticks. She helped him lift the lo mein noodles and set them on his plate, smiling when he shrugged off her hand and attempted to do it on his own. His first dozen attempts were miserable, dropping food more than he carried it between carton and plate.

"Laugh and die," Killian growled, stabbing at the noodles and vegetables. "I'm serious this is a stupid way to eat."

Lifting her hands in a show of surrender, Emma grinned, "I think that it's kind of cute."

Killian didn't dignify the comment with a response. Instead he pulled Emma's plate across the table, and refilled her wineglass. The blonde giggled softly and pressed a kiss to Killian's cheek.

"You are tempting me, a very dangerous thing to do," Killian told her, turning to face her. Emma's plump pink lip slid through her teeth, Killian leaned forward and caught her lip between his, tugging gently, chopsticks abandoned entirely.

She tasted like wine, sweet and heady. His hook came up to cradle her neck, pulling her closer as Emma leaned forward, practically crawling into his lap. Their fused lips parted for only a few seconds for gasping breaths, hands flashing across clothing, pulling and tugging in a building fervor.

When the need for oxygen became so great Emma broke away head tilting back as she panted, "You tell anyone about this I'll kill you."

"That's kind of cute," Killian smirked, pulling her back for a demanding second, or was it a third or fourth, kiss.

* * *

A/N: 8/12. I am fully into the swing of Christmas shopping. I have an entire list of stores and gifts I have to check off tomorrow. Tomorrow we ride! Anyway, hope you enjoyed some Killian and Emma cuteness. I think Emma really would tell someone they were going on a date, just to prevent rejection. That's my kind of girl. Ta!


	9. The Ring & The Stars

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

It wasn't a date, Emma was certain about that. And she did not appreciate her _mother _pestering her about it. It was dinner, just dinner and maybe a little wine. Okay it was two bottles of wine. And maybe there had been a kiss, but it was really more of two people's lips colliding entirely accidentally. It was not a date.

"It was," Mary-Margaret sang, a smug smile forming.

"No," Emma growled, teeth clenched, "It wasn't."

"Okay," the same sing-songy smirk filled tone filled the apartment, "But I _am_ your mother, and I can tell when you're lying."

Emma didn't dare allow herself to respond. She wasn't in a playful mood, she was annoyed and a little bit unsettled. _If_ she responded to Mary-Margaret there would be tears. Instead of pissing off her mother, Emma drained her coffee cup and walked out of the house. She had plans to meet Henry and Regina for breakfast. That would be enough of a distraction to get Emma's mind off how good it had felt to kiss Hook.

Every stroke of his tongue against hers had been like liquid fire, a shot whiskey that spread instantaneous warmth through every cell of her body. Killian was just the right amount of forceful, he pushed the bounds but knew exactly when to pull back. And the muscles on that man certainly didn't hurt his case, his strong arms around her had actually felt less stifling and more safe than Emma had suspected they would.

Shaking herself sharply Emma made for the door, she _really_ needed a distraction or she would need to take another cold shower.

* * *

"Hey, Kid," Emma grinned, pressing a kiss to Henry's head as she hugged him. He was getting so big, every time she blinked it seemed like he was taller, his voice deeper.

"Hi, Mom," Henry wrapped his arms tightly around Emma, "So…how was your date."

Emma's face dropped, she couldn't believe him, _but_ she should know better. Henry was a highly mischievous kid. He definitely took after Emma and Neal; they had certainly given the world a run for its money.

"Date," Regina quirked a brow as she sat in the booth, "What date would that be?"

"Shut up," Emma said under breath as she slid into the booth beside Henry. "So, what's for breakfast?"

"Hot cocoa _with_ cinnamon and apple pancakes," Henry grinned as he spoke, "With a side of the truth, so date, spill."

"I'm telling my kid about any dates I might go on, not there I went on one," Emma told him sharply, eyes far too wide for her to be telling the truth.

Regina crossed her arms, a slight smirk on her apple red lips, "No one is buying that story, Ms. Swan."

"Yeah, Mom, so spill," Henry shook an accusing finger at her, "What did you and Hook do?"

"Hook," Regina's smirk became very smug, "of course it was the pirate."

Crossing her arms defensively Emma scowled, "We had dinner, it _wasn't_ a date."

"Mhm," came Regina's amused chuckle, "Well, I think that we can all assume that _if_ it wasn't a date, then you two are becoming fast friends."

"What, no," Emma rejected the thought, eyes flashing incredulously. "No!"

Henry took a sip of his cocoa, eyes watching his mom calculatingly, "Did you kiss?"

"No," was the very loud exclamation, "No, what in the world, Henry!"

"I think the lady doth protest too much," Regina's voice was full of mirth at Emma's discomfort.

"I do not," Emma bit out, "And since when do know Shakespeare?"

"Since when do _you_ know Shakespeare," Regina fired back easily. "So this date where you kissed the pirate, do tell."

"Oh my god," Emma cried, "Our son is sitting right here."

"Oh I know."

Nodding Henry smiled brightly, "I _am_ right here."

"Can we just eat breakfast like a normal family and _not_ discuss my personal life," pleaded Emma.

"So there _is_ a personal life to discuss," Henry commented slyly.

Arms dropping to her sides in defeat, Emma whimpered, "Where is a catastrophic evil when you need it?"

Breakfast continued on slightly less interrogative, but there were definite hints of curiosity. They had finally settled on plan for Christmas, a Henry approved plan at that. They would have Christmas Eve Dinner at Regina's and open presents at the apartment in the morning. Regina had also claimed the rights to Henry sleeping at her place in exchange for Emma getting him the rest of Christmas Day.

Of course peace never lasts, "Hello, Love," an awfully familiar voice purred.

"Hi, Killian," Henry chirped excitedly, "what are you doing today?"

"I was actually coming to see if your mum was busy, Lad," Killian spoke directly to Henry, his gaze never straying to the object of his clear affection.

Henry grinned, "She's free."

"What," Emma asked in surprise, "I thought we were going to spend the day together, Henry."

"Actually," the boy made a slight face, "Mom is going to take me shopping so I can get you a Christmas present."

Emma's gaze flickered to a nonplussed Regina, "Henry is absolutely correct, Hook, Emma is totally free."

"What," she sputtered, "don't I get a say in this?"

"Not at all," Regina smiled sweetly as she slid out of the booth, gesturing for Henry to follow.

A quick hug and kiss from Henry and Emma was left with the remains of her breakfast and a pirate who quickly took Henry's vacant seat.

"Hook," Emma growled.

Killian settled his arm around Emma's shoulders with a smirk, "Why so distant, Love?"

* * *

Emma sat on the fire escape, legs dangling through the bars. Inside the apartment was a little too cheery for Emma's taste. Mary-Margaret was in full Christmas swing, she was making popcorn garlands, cookies, and pies all while singing Christmas carols and dancing around the room.

David had already escaped with Henry and Baby Neal for a little last minute shopping, although Emma _knew_ that they were just avoiding all of the merriment. Emma had not been invited on the jaunt, she had instead slipped outside with a bottle of whiskey and all of her winter gear. Preparing for a long cold stay outdoors, Emma was willing to do anything to avoid Mary-Margaret's bulldozer of cheer.

"Ahoy up there," a voice called loudly.

Of course Emma couldn't be lucky enough to avoid him any longer. She had managed to escape him for most of the day by telling him she had to do some errands, which really meant hiding out in Gold's shop and learning a little bit more about her magic. Gold had been highly amused at her predicament, even playfully offering her a deal to help her escape the pirate's hook. Emma had tossed a dusting rag at him which he had batted out of the air with his magic, inspiring a whole new lesson for the pair.

Killian called her name, snapping Emma back to the present, "What?"

"Permission to come aboard," he called up.

Taking a swig from her glass as she considered the merits of dropping the heavy tumbler down onto the pirate Emma frowned. "Fine," she sighed at last, knowing he wouldn't give up as easily as Emma would have liked.

A triumphant laugh echoed in the cold air, followed by the sharp clang of metal on metal as Hook began to climb the ladder. "So," Hook breathed as he scaled the height easily, "What brings you out onto the scaffolding?"

"Fire escape," Emma corrected absently before jerking her gloved thumb over her shoulder, "I'm not exactly a jolly holiday kind of person."

Hook pulled himself up to sit beside Emma, "Well I just cannot believe _that_."

"Sarcasm not appreciated," Emma told him dryly. "This is the first calm Christmas we've had since the curse broke, it's kind of weird."

"How so," Killian asked as he leaned back against the grating, staring up at the clear black sky speckled with brilliant white lights.

Emma shrugged and refilled her glass before throwing it back in one gulp, "It's just odd. It wasn't very holiday-y before, now I'm getting the whole shebang full force. It's a first, well except for the memories of Henry and New York, but they don't feel totally real."

"There has to be at least one good Christmas memory," Hook prodded, head tilting to watch the blonde.

She sighed heavily, and filled her glass again, "I don't know. Maybe with my first foster family, they got me all these toys and clothes, and it was so nice," Emma trailed off. "Then three months later I was back in the system."

Before Emma could swallow the new finger of liquor it was snatched out of her hands, the glass clinking against Killian's many ringed fingers. "You might want to slow down, Love," Killian brought the glass to his lips and downed the liquid.

Emma's lip curled upward in annoyance before her thoughts drifted to a different topic, "Jeeze, you have more rings than I have jewelry."

Placing the glass behind him, Killian looked down at his hands before sliding a silver ring with a green gemstone off his pinky finger. Reaching over, he tucked Emma's hand against his body, tugging her glove off before he slipped the ring onto her right ring finger. He peered at it, it looked right, delicate and graceful settled on her slender finger.

"There," Killian breathed, pulling her hand up to kiss her knuckles, "You have one more piece and I have one less."

The heat that swirled in Emma's belly could not be solely attributed to the four shots of whiskey she had taken. A lot of it might have been from the soft warmth of Killian's lips on her hand, and the tickling brush of his neatly trimmed beard.

Uncharacteristically Emma did not pull away from Killian's grip. She was rather enjoying the genuine warmth of the hand wrapped around hers. Shrugging further into her coat, Emma tilted her body towards Killian's, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," Emma whispered dreamily, eyes casting upward to the sky.

Killian smiled as Emma's walls came tumbling down for him, "Your welcome, Love."

"It's so clear out," Emma attempted to trace the different constellations, vaguely remembering how Neal had tried to teach them to her so long ago.

"Mm," Killian agreed, "this is the kind of night I dreamed about as a child, so bright you could navigate anywhere by the stars."

"I still don't get how you can tell them apart," Emma turned a little further into Killian's body.

Face permanently etched with a smile Killian held his hook aloft, "Well when I was a lad I watched the stars every night. My mother told me all sorts of stories about the constellations, the stories of lovers torn apart only to be immortalized in the night sky so they would never again be parted."

Emma's heart fluttered harshly. It wasn't overtly romantic, but Emma was more than a little flustered.

"Sounds kind of nice."

Sitting under the starlight, the buzz of whiskey filling their veins, neither Emma nor Killian were quite sure if Emma was feeling wistful over the experience of having a mother or about the concept of lovers never being parted. Whichever it was, or if it was a mixture of the two, it kept Emma rooted to the spot, body pressed against Killian's thoughts wandering pleasantly.

This was Emma's kind of peace, the kind of bone deep tranquility that let her drift away from the defensive walls she had built up over her thirty-odd years. The gentle patterns Killian drew on Emma's hand kept her tethered to the moment, letter her drift just far enough to forget about the icy breaths she took but not so far that she forgot the heat that permeated her soul.

* * *

A/N: 9/12. Wasn't feeling very well earlier, feeling a tad better. But I am feeling very accomplished today, got some shopping done and I got to writing a little earlier. Thanks for all the lovely reviews, Ta!


	10. The Friction & The Heart

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

"Ooh," Emma cooed as she wiggled he toes in the thick socks, "best present ever!"

"Does it actually count as a present if you bought it for yourself," Killian asked curiously.

Emma tossed a very dirty look at the pirate, "Buzzkill."

"Come here," Killian crooked his hook at her.

Glaring across the couch at the man sitting on the other end Emma kicked her foot at him, which, in hindsight was a terrible idea because hook caught her ankle and dragged her kicking and yelping towards him. Lunging into a sitting position Emma reached and shoved at Killian. His response was to pull her closer, release her ankle and take a smack at her behind. Emma jerked, her foot smashing into Killian's side, hopefully his kidney.

"You are _horribly_ violent," Killian rubbed his side, "Has anyone ever told you that before?"

"Not that I recall," Emma sniffed, digging her toes a little further into the muscle of Killian's side.

"I swear," the dark haired man grumbled, "you are terrible."

Green eyes rolled, "And yet here you are, inserting yourself into _my _life."

"One might argue that it is the other way around," Killian leaned back as he settled Emma's feet on his lap, his hand absently stroking them, "After all you are the one who came into my world, Love."

Emma slumped back onto the couch, moaning slightly as Hook's fingers dug into the soles of her feet. "You can say whatever you want, as long as you don't stop what you're doing."

"I'll remember that," Killian smiled to himself, Emma was just like any other woman in that respect. Once he figured out her triggers she was as easy as a lyre to play. "So, Ms. Swan, what are today's plans?"

Another moan slipped out of her mouth, "Nothing, well I'm taking Henry ice skating later, we're all going, including Regina, and Robin, I think. It's a whole double date thing. Which is super weird," Emma rambled. "I mean my mother and her former mortal enemy going on a double date. Oh God, what if I have to referee their fights. Ugh, I quit being sheriff, and a daughter."

"Little bit on the dramatic side there, Love," Killian snickered, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Well," Emma sighed deeply, "My mother could start a fight and Regina might plunge Storybrooke into an eternal winter or kill us all, you know worst case scenario."

"And dramatic," Killian reiterated, "so it will just be you and Henry on your own?"

A short nod and a wiggle of Emma's feet was the answer. Shuffling her feet against Killian's leather pants, she really loved her new fuzzy socks. A week ago Emma would have rather eaten an entire box of donuts rather than admit she was kind of enjoying spending her downtime with Killian Jones. Well, to be truthful, Emma would probably have eaten the entire box of donuts and then denied that she would ever enjoy herself with Hook.

Donuts, sounded really kind of good, "We should get donuts."

"What," Killian asked laughing, hand stroking her thigh, "Are you feeling alright, Love?"

"Hungry, for donuts," Emma pouted, face pillowed against the couch cushions. "Let's get donuts, except _I_ don't want to move, so you should go get donuts."

"Oh should I?"

"Yes. Or I'll hate you forever and ever, now go get me food," Emma commanded, hand waving the pirate to the door, "Shoo!"

Killian reluctantly got up, settled the blanket around Emma and slipped out of the apartment, leaving the muttering woman to herself. He wasn't exactly the biggest fan of crazy women, but for Emma he would make just the slightest exception, okay it was a big exception. And apparently her drama was beginning to rub off on him, because Emma wasn't crazy, she ws probably more rooted in reality than he was, or at least the reality that existed in the world without magic.

He was sap deep down, he craved the little smiles that flitted across Emma's face, the storm that brewed in her eyes, and the graceful line of her shoulders when she stood tall. So when Emma asked him to Jump, he jumped. Hell, he would jump overboard for her, and in fact he had. Getting a box of donuts, a treat he wasn't overly fond of, but Henry and Emma were, and he loved Emma. It was an easy thing to do, and when Killian Jones loved someone he did everything in his power to make them happy.

* * *

Box balanced on his hand, Killian knocked on the door with his metal hook. There were very few things that Killian hadn't managed to master doing with his hook, but when he did find one of those rarities it ruffled his feathers. Jaw tightening, Killian knocked again when Emma didn't come to the door.

The second knock was met with a squeal of laughter that pierced the air and drifted into the hall. A thump sounded before the door was hastily swung open.

"Killian," Henry yelled excitedly, "you have donuts!"

The boy snagged the box from his hand and took off into the apartment, sliding on the wood floors. Emma was swaying in the middle of the floor, spinning on her toes and nodding her head to the beat of the music that filled the apartment.

"Mom, donuts," Henry called loudly.

Emma's eyes snapped open and she spun to face her delivery man. She smiled easily and bit her lip a little shyly as Henry skipped over to her, chocolate smeared on the corner of his mouth.

"Did you at least chew kid?"

Henry nodded frantically as he swallowed roughly, "Yes, Mom!"

"Just checking," Emma laughed and grabbed Henry's hands, pulling and pushing them rhythmically as she twister her upper body.

Spinning beneath Emma's arm, Henry took his mother's free hand in his and stepped back and forward, before they both spun, hands staying linked as they turned under their bridged arms. It was rather sweet Killian decided, as he stepped into the apartment and closed the door. The music playing on the record machine was unfamiliar to the pirate, but Emma was singing along, something about dancing with herself. Mother and son laughed freely, dancing in an odd mixture of steps that seemed more clumsy and playful than structured. It looked fun.

As the song switched Henry scurried away towards the donuts, casting Killian a meaningful look and a head tilt in the direction of Emma. Killian didn't need to be asked twice. He shed his coat and undid his vest, shedding his accoutrements in anticipation of being quite close to Emma.

A new song started up, a little slower, though it was still much faster than anything Killian had experience dancing to. He, however, was not a man who fell in the face of a challenge. Killian reached out with his hand and grasped Emma's, pulling her into him, she frowned as she landed against his chest, her fingers curling against his bare skin.

"Are you asking me to dance," she giggled.

Killian raised a brow, "If _this_ is what you consider dancing."

Recalling that not so long ago he had helped her dance, Emma decided to return the favor, "Just follow me."

Emma backed up a step, her knees bent slightly as she started to swivel her hips, shoulders twisting in time to the beat. Her free hand rose to her hair, mussing the mass of blonde locks that was already in disarray. She straightened slightly and leaned towards him, settling her hands on his shoulders and encouraging him to move just a little. Girding his courage, Killian settled flat of his hook against the curve of Emma's waist, using her movements to form his own.

As soon as he was moving in synchronicity with Emma she began to shake her head, eyes locked shut as she lost herself to the screaming beat of some string instrument. Killian's eyes strayed briefly to where Henry was absorbed in a dancing in his seat as he downed a second or possibly third donut. That was a small relief to the pirate. Every movement of Emma's, every toss of her hair, every hooded expression that passed over her face was wanton. The comparison came unbidden to Killian; Emma looked like a woman in the throes of passion, her whole being making a sort of love to the music enveloping her.

Suddenly, Killian was very thankful for the leather pants he insisted on wearing despite the more comfortable or fashionable choices that seemed to dominate this world. As the song slowed, petering out, Emma's movements slowed, coming down off of a high that only she could feel. She was panting softly, eyes still closed as her body gravitated a little closer to his, their chests brushing against each other.

Every beat she seemed to be closer, her eyes slipped open just a hair, glancing up at him in liquid heat. Every brushing touch was intolerable, agonizingly pleasurable friction. This was sin, Killian was sure, if anything he had ever done was bad, the feeling of Emma Swan's body sliding slowly against his was a sin. He felt hot, even without his layers of leather, Killian was burning.

When the song stopped at last the spell was broken and Emma broke away from him, mouth open slightly, mouth dry as she regained her bearings. Killian watched as she shakily walked over to her son and stole what was left of the donut in his hand, she smiled and laughed as he complained, looking unfairly unaffected. He was hardly so lucky, besides being rather uncomfortable in his leather pants, Killian was also unsettled.

He understood now the dangers his mother warned him of all those years ago. It was fine to flirt, especially with those who passed like storms, but the sun was a different matter. Emma was the sun, she burned so bright, melting the walls he had built around his own heart. She left him feeling dazed, like a man parched to the point of death. There was no return. But there she was, smiling and laughing like she hadn't just built him up and destroyed him with one touch.

* * *

Emma laughed sharply as she skated backwards on the smooth ice, pulling Henry who was making ridiculous faces at her. With a spray of slush, Emma skidded to a halt, catching Henry in her arms before he barreled her over.

"Room for one more," A voice asked from behind them.

Emma twisted on her skates, pulling Henry with her, "What do you say, Kid?"

"Do you even know how to skate," Henry asked voice full of doubt.

"It can't be that hard if _you're_ doing it, now can it," Killian fired back as he stepped onto the ice, holding tight to the wooden railing that encircled the rink.

Henry snorted and pulled away from Emma, "Yeah, but I also have six years of experience. Both of my moms have taken me skating since before I can remember."

"Well," Killian smiled charmingly at Henry, "Then perhaps you'll let me borrow your mum so she can teach me how to skate."

Nose wrinkled, Henry shook his head, "I don't think Regina likes you very much, besides she's on a date with Robin Hood."

Killian's smile disappeared, "Actually I meant Emma, so scoot," Killian took a semi-steady step and pushed the boy gently, causing Henry to slide backward.

Emma didn't have any compunction about harming Killian and whacked him solidly, "Henry, why don't you go take a lap, your grandmother and Regina are laughing, hell must be freezing over, go do some recon."

The young boy shuddered, "Operation Viper?"

"Operation Viper," Emma confirmed as the boy skated away, twisting and weaving around the people on the ice as he went.

"I'm ready to learn," Killian grinned.

Emma nodded and peered at the man in the late evening light, "Do you want to, maybe, let go of the rail?"

Killian's face fell a little, after unsteadily shoving Henry he had latched back onto the firm wood, disconcerted by the way his skates slipped and slid on the ice. "I'm good actually."

"Nope," Emma shook her head with a dark grin, "it doesn't work like that." With a swiftness that Killian wasn't prepared for, Emma had managed to loosen his grip on the fence and was skating backward, pulling Killian with her. His face was a slideshow of terror and exhilaration, every smooth glide and every stumble or imbalance sending him into a new wave of emotion. "Relax," the blonde snickered, "I kind of like you're face the way it is, and your other bits, so I'm not going to let you fall."

"Well isn't that a relief," Killian said nervously.

"It should be."

A/N: 10/12. Hope you enjoyed the giddy encounters of a certain Captain and his quarry! Thanks for all the lovely feedback, Happy Holidays all.


	11. The Lies & The poet

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or "At Last She Comes" by Robert Louis Stevenson.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

"Welcome," Regina swung the big white door open with a tight smile, "Come on in."

"Hi, Mom," Henry hugged Regina swiftly before scurrying into the house.

"Thank you, Regina," Mary-Margaret smiled and held out a pie.

David nodded, scratching at his throat, "Yeah, thanks."

Emma huffed, "Can we actually move into the house, I've got fifteen pounds of baby that keeps drooling on me."

Regina gave Emma a look, one that clearly questioned why _she_ was the one carrying her baby brother and not Charming or Snow. "Please, come in, it's getting cold out there," Regina repeated her invitation, not even flinching when Hook slipped in after Emma, "Everyone."

With an ease that contradicted her vocal protestations Emma shrugged out of her coat all the while keeping the baby calm and stable against her chest. Regina hadn't expected that, she had expected to hear Emma attempting to fob the baby off on someone else. She supposed it might be due to giving Emma the memories of being with Henry, but Regina didn't feel like that answered the conundrum standing in front of her.

No one else seemed to notice the paradox in leather that was Emma Swan. Shaking herself, Regina stepped away from the entrance hall, gesturing everyone to the sitting room where Roland and Robin were already playing. One eye stayed on Emma as non-alcoholic eggnog was passed around; something was still niggling at Regina's senses about the whole thing.

Mary-Margaret gratefully took a cup of the liquid and sipped it, "This is wonderful, Regina."

"Thank you. So, Henry," Regina's focus shifted, "Are you excited for Christmas?"

"Yeah, kind of," Henry admitted, settling onto the floor with a mug of cocoa, he wasn't a fan of eggnog, "I mean I'm too old to _believe_," the word was whispered, "but I like spending time with my family."

The woman who had adopted and raised Henry smiled softly. Henry had a way of gentling the woman that no one could imitate, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Henry nodded, "Yesterday Emma and I danced to Billy Idol and she told me all about how she used to buy and wrap Christmas presents for herself before us."

Emma blushed, refocusing on the baby in her arms. It was one thing to share those things with Henry, but for them to become public knowledge was, well, pathetic. Emma had never had a picture perfect childhood, and that included the holidays. When she had gotten away on her own, Emma had made a point of celebrating, just like with her birthdays.

"Billy Idol," Regina asked curiously and loud enough that Emma knew she was meant to join the conversation. "Isn't he that punk rocker with the spiky hair and all that leather?"

Emma nodded, "Yep."

"Ooh," Mary-Margaret giggled, "Did someone have a crush?"

"No," Emma denied flatly.

Killian shook his head, "Lying isn't very becoming, Love."

"I'm not lying," Emma grumbled. "I'm not."

She was lying. Emma's first concert and musical love had been Billy Idol. It had actually been one of her Christmas gifts to herself. Emma had snuck and charmed her way into the concert and fallen in love in one song. His rough and tumble appearance had only helped Emma fall for him. Hell, she still had a little bit of a thing for him, but she wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"He's really cool," Henry added, "He has this really growly voice and wicked guitar solos."

David frowned, "Can we not talk about my daughter have a crush on some rock star?"

"Yeah," Mary-Margaret nudged her husband, "Besides, do you think I haven't had crushes on rock stars?"

"What," David's face dropped, voice dark.

"Never mind," the pale woman smiled, "So Regina, any chance I can get the recipe for the eggnog?"

"Oh no," Regina laughed, "You got yourself into this, you can get yourself out."

"I knew you were evil," Mary-Margaret grumbled into her mug of eggnog.

Rolling her eyes Emma bounced Neal on her hip, his head pillowed against her chest, his hand digging into the skin of her collar roughly. Pacing towards the big tree, Emma lifted her free hand and pointed, "What's that, Neal? Do you see the pretty lights?"

"You're very good with him," Robin said as he approached Emma, having left Roland and Regina to play with Henry. "I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, but I thought you didn't have much experience with children."

"I don't," Emma lied.

Robin nodded, lips forming a straight line, "Of course. Can I get you something to drink?"

"No," Emma shook her head, "I'm fine thanks."

Robin slunk away, leaving Emma to talk softly to Neal. Killian soon joined her instead, leaving the other adults to talk tensely, or as easily as they were capable of, which wasn't very.

Emma shifted to face Killian slightly, "So enjoying your first awkward family Christmas?"

"It's not so bad," Killian offered, "There has been no bloodshed yet."

"Yet," Emma cooed the word, "Isn't that right, Neal, yet."

"You are good with him," Killian rubbed his knuckle against the cherub cheek that wasn't pressed against Emma.

Neal's warmth pressed against her made Emma smile, "It's not so hard. All they really need is love."

There was another lie. It wasn't easy, babies were by default complicated and challenging. It was easier to lie. Killian watched her, watched Emma melt at every gurgle and shift of the baby. He had never seen Emma quite like this. When she interacted with Henry it softened her, certainly, but every moment with him was tinged by a shade of regret. Holding Neal, Emma looked nostalgic and peaceful. She made the perfect picture of motherhood, doting and kind. For fear of making her shy like a deer from a hunter, Killian kept his musings to himself.

* * *

Dinner had been slightly tense, no one quite sure what to discuss. Henry and Killian had obliviously and happily filled the silence, discussing everything they could possibly chance upon. They discussed Killian's ice skating lesson, a lesson which had him on his back more than on his feet, and the collection of impressive bruises that were fit to be discussed at the table.

"Mom is a good teacher," Henry smiled at Emma. "She helps me with my homework all the time."

Regina nodded, "That's lovely, Henry."

Emma shifted uncomfortably and leaned over to Killian as a round of chatter about the weather broke out, "This is torture. I need a drink."

Killian coughed and nudged her leg. Emma glanced down to see a bright silver flask tucked between Killian's fingers. She took it with a smile of thanks and waited for the opportune moment of distraction before tipping a heavy measure of the flask into her coke. She passed the flask back and took a swig of her drink, rum and coke, not bad.

"Thanks," Emma breathed as she took another sip, "It is all becoming a little Stepford."

"I don't know what that means, but I know better than to come to a party without a backup plan."

"True," Emma concurred, "I used to have this thigh holster flask, so convenient."

A sharp cry pierced the clatter of plates and utensils. Emma pushed back from the table immediately, "I got it."

"Oh no," Mary-Margaret tried to object, "Emma, you've done so much already, I've got it."

"I'm already done eating," Emma pointed out, "I got it."

* * *

Neal had been napping happily in the living room floor during most of dinner, clearly awakening to find himself alone and in an unfamiliar place. Emma sat down beside the tiny baby, hand settling lightly on his back to rub gentle, soothing, circles.

"Hey sweetheart," Emma whispered, "It's okay, I've got you."

The shrill cries wavered before stopping. Emma continued stroking his back, knowing that rhythmic motions helped soothe babies. Emma wasn't unfamiliar with babies. Hell, she had grown up in a group home for most of her life. She had been surrounded by children of all ages. Emma had quickly learned how to care for her pseudo-siblings, it had been difficult at first, but the more Emma had been around them the more she had grown to love them. Not every memory of her childhood was wretched, the children had been bright spots, but there came a point where Emma had been forced to protect herself over them, and that meant leaving them.

It had torn her heart out to give up Henry, to hear his cries and not calm him, hold him. But she had known, the minute she gave an inch she would take him and run. Neal was a second chance of sorts; she could hold him and calm him like she had wished she could have done for Henry. As real as Regina's memories were, Emma could see past the veil, she knew that she hadn't actually been there for Henry, and that broke her all over again.

When Neal settled enough, Emma scooped him up and returned to the dining room, handing him reluctantly to David. Returning to her seat Emma forced a smile, "So, what did I miss?"

"Nothing much," Killian sighed, "Although there was almost a food fight."

"It slipped," David reiterated, "I didn't mean to hit your mother with mashed potatoes."

David's eagerness to hold his son made much more sense. He was using Neal as a human shield.

"Mhm," Mary-Margaret hummed firmly, "Of course it was an accident."

"Well," Regina stood up, "Emma, why don't help me get dessert from the kitchen."

Emma rose from her seat, taking her glass with her; she might need it very soon.

* * *

"Give it here," Regina demanded sharply, hand on hip.

Eyes wide, Emma asked innocently, "What?"

"The cup," Regina jerked the glass out of Emma's hand and downed in two swallows, shuddering as she set the glass on the counter, "Rum?"

"It was handy," Emma shrugged, "So is that all you really wanted?"

"No," Regina shook her head slightly as she moved around the kitchen pulling out a bottle of whiskey and pouring it into the now empty glass. "I just needed an out. How you can you put up with how sickeningly sweet they both are, I mean I get it, it's Christmas, but eugh," Regina shuddered.

Emma took the bottle from Regina's hand and took a swig straight from the bottle, "Hey, you really don't have much room to talk. If you do anymore more eye-smiling at Robin Hood you might turn into a puddle of goo, Frosty."

"Shut up," Regina downed her finger of whiskey and reclaimed the bottle from Emma, taking a leaf out of her book and swigging directly from the bottle.

"Hey," Emma chuckled, "It's not a bad thing. You like him. People act stupid when they're in love."

"I am not in love," Regina nearly choked on the offensive word. "You, on the other hand, have that pirate eating out of your hand."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Emma snorted.

"So the puddle of drool I had to clear up before dinner was because he was hungry?"

Emma glared, grabbed the pie off the counter and took another swig of the whiskey before stalking back into the dining room.

* * *

If Regina had accused Mary-Margaret and David of being sappy, she had no room to talk. After settling Henry and Roland in to bed, the adults and Neal had sat around with a nightcap, which had quickly descended into caroling. Regina had settled herself in Robin's lap and was practically glowing, which might not have been Emma's imagination considering that magic was a thing.

Shaking herself, Emma excused herself, hugging everyone in the room, even Regina who she left with a little _told-you-so_. Stepping into the brisk evening air, Emma considered that this was the best Christmas she had ever had, including the concert.

"Swan," Killian called after her, "trying to leave me there, eh?"

Shoulders lifted slightly before dropping, "Not really."

"Could have fooled me, Love," Hook grinned as he dropped his arm around Emma. "So, Christmas Eve, the two of us, what do you want to do?"

"Well," Emma considered, "I did tell Gold I would stop by to watch him light the tree, Regina decided not to go."

"Any way I could dissuade you of that option," Killian asked softly, "Maybe settle for a moonlight stroll?"

Emma shrugged, "I guess you could try."

"Then try I will," the warm voice breathed in her ear before a kiss landed on the corner of Emma's mouth, then her lips.

Turning into the kiss Emma hauled herself up by the edges of Killian's coat, committing herself to the kiss. She dropped back to her feet with a little moan. Eyes roving Emma's face, Killian lifted his hand to brush his fingers through her hair, she was everything.

"At last she comes, O never more in this dear patience of my pain. To leave me lonely as before, or leave my soul alone again," Killian recited, hand cupping Emma's face.

"That's," Emma's brow furrowed, "Robert Louis Stevenson, I love his poems."

His head ducked, "I know, I found your book when you were sick. I rather like the bloke."

"You memorized a poem," Emma smiled, "Why?"

"Because it's true," Killian breathed, eyes flickering from her eyes to her lips and back before Emma pulled him down to her, crushing their lips together. "Emma," he breathed against her lips, "I love you, Emma, just let me love you."

His prayer was lost to the night as Emma's lips sealed over his, her body melting against his as she let him in.

* * *

A/N: 11/12. So I'm a huge sap, and getting worse with age. Also I love babies, they are so cuddly. On a more focused note, I think that in certain situations Regina and Emma would definitely team up together, they have a bit of a love-hate friendship going. Ah, well. Happy Holidays, and Merry Christmas Eve.


	12. The Kitten & The Guide

Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or "At Last She Comes" by Robert Louis Stevenson.

A/N: This is set post &amp; AU of S3 without Marion and without the CaptainSwan kiss. This is circa Christmas in Storybrooke, centered on the building of CaptainSwan.

* * *

"Shit," Emma swore loudly as jerked upright in bed, the covers tangling around her limbs and stuck to her clothing. Her head pounded viciously. Rubbing her temples, Emma tried to recall how she had come to be in this state. She remembered kissing Killian, and walking around town, even stopping in at the Tree Lighting ceremony and managed to catch a little dance with Gold—much to Killian's annoyance. They had wandered home and…well that's where everything went a little fuzzy.

Forcing herself to swallow as her stomach rolled unpleasantly, Emma forced her eyes to open a crack, her brain smarting as the sun hit her harshly. Flopping back onto her pillows, Emma shifted onto her side, inhaling the warm scent of cinnamon and leather. Her nose tickled as she frowned, slowly becoming aware of a heavy weight resting across her hip.

"The hell," Emma breathed as she forced her eyes to open and _stay_ open. "Oh god," the nauseated exclamation spilled out of her mouth, sliding over her lips with an ease that belied the horror.

Laying half on top of Emma was Killian Jones, his face inches from hers. A myriad of curses in more than a few languages streamed through Emma's head. Forcing her heart and breathing to slow, Emma reassessed the situation. She was fully clothed. Emma was still wearing a scarf…not her scarf.

"Gold," Emma muttered as she stroked the smooth, warm fabric. He had wrapped it around her neck before sending her back to the "pirate" with a little sneer.

Continuing her assessment of the situation, Emma sat up. Killian was clothed, still wearing his leather coat. Glancing around the room Emma spotted the cause of her memory issues. Green glass glinted in the sunlight, tipped on its side and completely drained was a bottle of Jameson. Oh jeeze. _That_ explained why Emma felt well and truly like her brain had melted and was currently dripping out of her ears.

Tensing her muscles, Emma slid stiffly out from under Killian's arm, trying to prevent him from waking, at least while she was practically lying on top of him. Her stomach rolled again violently, forcing Emma to pause. What was still a blur was the explanation of why she and Killian had downed an entire bottle of Jameson, one foot hit the floor, toes tapping against what felt and sounded suspiciously like a second empty bottle. Chancing a glimpse down Emma spotted what was in fact an empty bottle of tequila. It certainly explained the nauseating roll of her stomach that reminded Emma of a trip to Mexico in her youth.

Hauling herself the rest of the way out of bed, Emma straightened her clothes and marched around the bed, preparing to wake Hook and deal with the consequences. With a short breath, Emma lifted her foot and placed it against Killian's shoulder, shoving roughly.

Killian shifted with a groan, "Go away."

"Get the hell up," hissed Emma as she jabbed him again, a little rougher this time.

"Wha," Killian hazily lifted his head, reeling slightly as he squinted up at the tall blonde figure. "Emma?"

"Yes," she growled, "Now get up!"

Rolling onto his back the pirate burped and forced himself up onto his elbows, "Eugh."

"Attractive," Emma curled her lip in disgust, "Now get up and get out! No one can find you here!"

"Merry—What the hell," David yelled as he swung the door of his daughter's room open to find his worst nightmare: a boy in his daughter's bed.

"Emma, Love, I think the cat may have already escaped that _particular_ bag," Killian enunciated slowly as David advanced on him.

Face going pale, Emma sighed deeply, "Oh hell." Dropping her foot to the ground Emma turned to face her father, "Nothing happened?"

"Was that a question," David demanded, "What the hell is _he_ doing in your bed!"

"If I knew, I would tell you, honestly," Emma offered. "_I'm_ still trying to figure out what happened."

David threw his arms in the air in frustration turned around and started to walk out of the room. Before he left he turned his head and growled, "You have five minutes to get ready and be in the living room, our guests will be here soon."

* * *

Emma had done her fair share of walks of shame, but walking out of her bedroom to face her parents was not something she had experience with. Dressed in her pajamas, Emma crept out of her room to find Mary-Margaret sitting at the table with two cups of coffee, Baby Neal and David not in sight.

"So," Mary-Margaret's eyes sparkled with excitement, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Emma gritted out and snatched the steaming cup of coffee from the table.

"Really," the dark haired, pixie of a woman asked doubtfully, "Because your father was furious."

"Nothing," Emma repeated more firmly, "We were both fully clothed, and we were so drunk I don't remember anything after dancing with Gold."

"Wait," Mary-Margaret's brow furrowed, "When did you dance with Rumpelstiltskin?"

"Last night," she shrugged, "It was kind of nice, and he gave me his scarf."

Emma's mother nodded slowly, "That might explain _this_," a white envelope was slid across the table.

Picking the heavy paper up, Emma slid her finger underneath the flap, popping the wax seal open. The paper slid out with a rasp, and Emma began to scan the perfectly even letters, round curls meeting sharp angles. It was a short note, a thank you, and a request to see her again at some point in the next few days. No doubt to somehow convince her to help him pull something else over on Regina, it was something they both thoroughly enjoyed.

Folding the note back into the envelope, Emma set it aside and took a sip of her coffee. "That's it," Mary-Margaret exclaimed. "I need details!"

"It's nothing," Emma shrugged, "We're kind of friends."

Mary-Margaret's stunned reaction was never heard because a heavy knock sounded on the door and Emma rushed over to welcome in the other half of her family…and Robin Hood and his son.

* * *

Emma relaxed in a ball on the couch watching Henry rip open his presents. She was talking easily with Regina and Robin while David glared at her and Killian. Killian had settled himself on the floor in front of Emma, a bit like a guard dog.

"So why is Prince Charming breathing fire," Regina asked over her cup of coffee.

Sighing tightly Emma leaned over, "He may have caught a certain pirate in my bed, _fully clothed_."

"Were you," Regina asked oddly intrigued by the whole affair.

"Yes," Emma hissed, "I think we drank ourselves unconscious last night. Nothing happened, I don't think."

"Nothing," Regina repeated the word Emma was becoming sorely tired of hearing.

"Nothing that I know of, I mean we might have kissed earlier in the evening, but that's it," Emma rambled slightly.

Eyes trained on Henry, Regina smiled, "You could have chosen worse."

"What?"

"The pirate," Regina clarified, "He isn't the worst person you could let into your heart. If I've learned anything this year, it's that we have to move on eventually and open our hearts again."

Sighing, Emma curled further into herself, "Speaking from experience?"

"Yes," Regina stated bluntly, "And I'm actually very happy."

"So you're _telling_ me I should date a pirate," Emma frowned.

"Well, I'm not saying I won't make fun of you a little, but if he makes you happy, why not?"

"Maybe," Emma sighed, letting her fingers dip to play with the short hairs at the nape of Killian's neck, considering the option.

"Are you _finally_ admitting you like Killian," Henry called loudly, smirking as his mother froze, hand in Killian's hair.

"Maybe?"

Henry pumped his fist into the air, "Yes! This is going to be awesome!"

"No," David growled, "No it isn't, this isn't happening!"

"Relax, David," Mary-Margaret scolded, "As long as Emma's happy, we should be too. _But_, if you _ever_ mess with my daughter, Hook, they won't find enough of you to identify."

David didn't say a word, silently grumbling as he bounced Neal on his lap.

Killian frowned, "Love, your father is a kitten compared to your mum, she is terrifying."

"Kitten," Emma frowned, "really, that's what you're calling my father?"

"Well," Killian turned, reaching up to cup Emma's face, "You have to get it from someone, Love, you do a fair impression of a kitten."

"And now you're calling me a kitten, nice," Emma's lips pursed in disgust.

Killian pulled himself up onto the couch beside Emma, "Well, when I call you a kitten it's a compliment, Love. I rather like how warm and cuddly you can be."

"I am not warm _or_ cuddly," Emma punched him in the side.

"Kitten's got claws."

"Shut up," Emma rolled her eyes but leaned in to press a light kiss to his lips.

As the piles of presents were unwrapped and opened and played with, Henry drifted farther from his toys and closer to his mothers. Eventually he curled up on Emma's side, resting his cheek against her shoulder as he talked with Killian at a pace that seemed impossible.

"Anyway," Killian offered, "Your mother managed to get Rumpelstiltskin to dance and laugh, and walked away with his scarf."

"No way," Henry breathed in amazement, "Did you make a deal, Mom?"

"No," Emma said slowly, "Why does everyone jump to that, can't I just have a friend?"

Regina chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Henry's hair, "_You_ can have a friend, Rumpelstiltskin, on the other hand, cannot."

"Well," Hook sniffed, twisting his fingers into Emma's blonde curls, "I'm the _last_ one to defend the Crocodile, but Emma _does_ have a way of befriending the oddest people."

"Aw," Mary-Margaret cooed, "That is so sweet."

"Oh," Henry's face lit up, "Killian, you should write yours and Emma's story down for the book! You should tell how you got mom to like you."

Killian chuckled as he watched the slight flush rise in Emma's face, "And what would I call it? _A Pirate's Guide to Capturing a Princess' Heart_?"

"Not bad," Henry bit his lip, "I think you should write do it!"

Regina snickered, "It would certainly be an interesting read."

"Right, and what is the first chapter going to be," Emma asked, "Stalking 101? Also _princess_, really?"

"Be nice, Emma," Mary-Margaret rebuked. "I like the idea. Everyone deserves to have their story told, especially if it's told by someone who loves you."

"I think I may be sick, Henry, where's my sword," David grimaced as Killian curled around his daughter.

"I don't know," Henry answered, "Mary-Margaret hid it."

The laughter and joy filled the apartment with ease, despite David's black mood. Emma relaxed back against Killian, deciding that maybe it wouldn't kill her to admit she was falling hard and fast for Captain Hook. And that wasn't a phrase or a sentiment that Emma ever thought she would think. Still, Emma couldn't help but feel like Storybrooke was finally home, that she had a family. As dysfunctional and unrealistic as her life may have become, Emma was starting to love it.

Pulling Henry into a one-armed hug, Emma kissed his forehead, "I love you, Kid."

"Love you too, Mom," Henry smiled up at her, teeth flashing as he hugged her back.

"What about me, Swan," was the cheeky question from the man beside her.

"I don't know, Captain," Emma turned to him, keeping her face as straight as she could, "Our _story_ has only just begun, there's still a long way to go before the sun rises."

"Hours at _least_," Killian agreed with a grin. "But I can see right through you, Emma."

"Oh yeah," Emma challenged him. "And what do you see?"

"Oh," Killian sighed, "A woman so desperately in love with me she's in denial. It's sad really, but I suppose I _could_ try to convince her of the reality of the situation."

Emma laughed, "Oh could you?"

"Haven't you heard, Love? I'm Captain Hook," Killian explained as if it were an obvious answer, and winked before capturing his love's lips in true love's kiss.

* * *

A/N: 12/12. Merry Christmas, All! We come to the end of this little tale, so I want to thank you all for the support you've given. It always amazes me at the end of these writing sessions how much I've written in such a short span of time. I actually wrote two stories this holiday season which amounted to over 60,000 words (if only I could find the time to do this every month!). So thank you for the kind words and the love, hope you enjoyed this everyday adventure of CaptainSwan.


End file.
